One Hundred Men
by randomtastic7
Summary: AU: What if Anne's innocence had been uncovered before her execution, but after her imprisonment? Even more surprising, what if Charles Brandon was the one to uncover that innocence?
1. Blatant Absurdity

**Disclaimer: **I obviously do not own The Tudors. If I did, I would have made the show this way and been completely historically inaccurate!

**A/N:** This is my first fanfic ever, for this fandom and for this website in general. Feedback is greatly appreciated, constructive criticism is always welcome!

**A/N #2: **The timeline for this story is more spread out than it was in the show. A good example of this would be that after Henry's ranting to Charles, the executions would not be due to happen for at least a couple days, if not more. Substance is more important to me than date accuracy, so I hope you guys won't mind it. This fic will also be more faithful to the show than the actual history.

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**Chapter 1: Blatant Absurdity **

Charles Brandon sat uneasily in one of the many large and comfortable chairs in the King's dining chamber. It was late in the evening, the world outside an inky darkness that properly matched the Court's mood as of late. Henry VIII, with all of his high and mightiness, was staring at the hearth… still. The remains of their meal lay on the table, Brandon's mostly consumed but the King's hardly touched. But his goblet was empty. The room was eerily silent, only the crackling sound of the fire and Henry's muffled sobs. Charles didn't know what to do, what to say. He believed that the harlot Anne Boleyn was never right to be England's Queen, yet even he was shocked that she had had multiple affairs, including her own brother! He could understand why Henry was so devastated; anyone committing incest was abominable, let alone one's wife.

However, Charles did not think that Henry would be this much of a wreck. When he had accepted the dinner invitation, he had expected tirades of shouting and cursing. But when he arrived, the food was already set out, and Henry was alone in the room. His eyes already had the red rims and puffiness that signified crying for long periods of time. They had eaten in silence, the tension escalating after each bite. Charles thought that Henry's recent dealings with the Seymour girl would have softened the blow, but he was wrong. The hurt and betrayal that darkened Henry's eyes was true and deep, like Henry had never been unfaithful and had his spouse find out.

It had been over two hours since Charles had entered the chamber, and not one audible word had been spoken. That's not to say that Henry did not vocalize any of his thoughts or feelings, it's just that he mumbled a lot in the beginning of the meal; and after the wine had taken hold, his speech became slurred and inaudible. But time was wearing on, and Charles was sure that the intoxication would begin to fade. He hadn't changed his posture since Henry had left the table, which was to say, 45 minutes ago. His neck was beginning to stiffen, as was his back, his knees, and just about every part of his body. Saying that Charles Brandon was tense was an extreme understatement. But even the Duke of Suffolk needed to change his position every so often. He had decided to uncross his legs, slowly, and turn his neck to the side, ever so slightly. But just as he was about to lift his booted foot, Henry grabbed the wrought iron coal poker. Charles froze. It wasn't that he thought that his life was in danger, or that Henry meant to inflict any bodily harm upon him, it was just that all Henry had been doing for the past 45 minutes was pace with his arms behind his back, and the change in habit probably signaled something greater to come. He was right. Henry opened his mouth.

"Do you know what Cromwell told me, Charles?" he rasped, after not having spoken a fully formed word in over two hours. "She had been involved with over a hundred men. Over a hundred men, Charles!" Henry let out a low whimper and continued to prod the coals of the hearth.

A hundred men? That seemed absurd, even to Charles Brandon, who had never thought highly of Anne Boleyn. At all. He thought that she treated him like a mangy dog, after all. But a hundred men tumbling Anne Boleyn? Impossible! Not only did he think that there weren't even a hundred men foolish enough to get involved with the woman who basically started this whole Reformation, but why would she want over a hundred men anyway? She had all that she could want at Court, and he had even heard from a visiting French courtier that she had never been the topic of much gossip at the French Court, not like her sister Mary. Now, if she had not been the skanky whore he thought she was at the French Court, how could she possibly have racked up over a hundred Englishmen? But Charles could not call Henry out on this yet. Not when he was in this state of mind, and especially because Charles wasn't even sure about Anne's own guilt in this matter. She had seemed like a clever viper when they first met, but even she wouldn't have been able to smuggle over a hundred men into her rooms, or any room, for that matter, without ANY Court gossip or bragging among servants or nobles alike. So Charles stayed silent, showed no facial reaction to this new allegation, and continued to listen to Henry's disbelief. He was mumbling something about how he didn't even believe that Elizabeth was his own daughter.

Ha, now that was a blatant lie. It was obvious who Elizabeth's parents were. True, her facial features were almost miniature copies of Anne's, but those eyes, those deep, piercing, all-knowing eyes were definitely Henry's. Elizabeth's hair even resembled Henry's late mother's. There was not a question in Charles's mind that Elizabeth's was Henry's. How could he even doubt that?

Then there was the matter that the son that Anne had lost was slightly deformed. Yes, Henry was a stuck up, virile man, so he absolutely could not believe that his son could have had some birth defects. But, in Charles's opinion, that could not have been certain, since the boy had not been carried to full term. Sure, the boy could have seemed deformed then, but it wasn't fully matured and could have had time to change. So Charles dismissed that claim as soon as it had come. Henry wasn't in his right mind, and he was sure that someone was manipulating it. As much as he hated Anne for unceremoniously usurping Katherine of Aragon's position, and throwing her out to The More until she wasted away, it didn't seem right for Anne to be set up and put to death, especially on these absurd charges.

Charles's thoughts were interrupted as Henry threw the white hot coal poker to the ground, probably burning the expensive antique rug they dined upon. He collapsed into a heap at Charles's feet, sobbing.

As he stroked the grieving Henry's head, Charles Brandon decided to look into the matter himself. He didn't like Anne, and, like most of the Court, he wanted to stay on Henry's good side. But, his conscience would not allow him to stand by and watch an innocent woman die. Who would want to condemn Anne so thoroughly, and shower her in disgrace? Anne had many enemies at Court, and Charles wouldn't have been surprised if he was included on that long list of enemies not too long ago. He would have to make some inquiries, but he had to be discreet about it. After all, he was the one to bring up Anne's unfaithfulness to the King in the first place, and if he was going to switch sides on the matter, he had better have some hard evidence to back him up.

But it was already late, and he doubted that anyone useful would be up at this hour. Even if they were, it would look suspicious if he were caught talking to them now. So Charles decided to remain with Henry until he was dismissed, plan a strategy for tomorrow, and execute it at first light.

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**A/N:** So, I hope you guys enjoyed this test. It was quite intriguing to write, and will hopefully continue to be. The real AU stuff will start next chapter, but until then, reviews are welcome!


	2. The Investigation Begins

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing!

**A/N: **Thanks to everyone that read, reviewed, favorited, and/or story alerted this story! It is so great to know that my first piece of writing here is liked. You guys have motivated me to write more! So here's your reward!

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**Chapter 2: The Investigation Begins**

Though Charles Brandon had vowed to start his inquiries at first light the next day, he found that he could not sleep. The minute he had returned to his chambers at the palace, he threw off his greatcoat and started formulating in front of his own fire. Since he could not think of a single person off the top of his head that he thought could be responsible for this scheme, he decided to interview the Queen's alleged lovers that they already had in custody. Though Charles could see many possible people at Court trying to elevate themselves at Anne's expense, none of them seemed witty enough to pull something of this magnitude off without inside help. However, he could not go around the King's most trusted peers and accuse them of treason. It would be too dangerous, like dipping your foot into a pool of frenzied piranhas. So interviewing the prisoners seemed like the safest first try.

But who would Charles approach first? Definitely not George Boleyn. Lord Rochford was too close to the Queen, for one thing. Also, the allegations against him were too heinous for him to even stomach. Incest! Lady Rochford had even agreed with them! The evidence seemed too overwhelmingly stacked against George Boleyn for Charles to even dare to approach without more knowledge of the whole situation. Lord Rochford was out.

Mark Smeaton and Thomas Wyatt also seemed too close to Anne to approach first. Smeaton was a commoner as well, no matter how good his musical talents seemed to hide it. No, he needed to talk with a person he could feel more comfortable with, someone he could connect to. That left only Brereton and Sir Henry Norris. Sir Henry! That would be the easiest man for him to begin his investigation with. Charles himself even found the fellow to be an amiable man before he was arrested. Brereton was a different story. The man had been quiet even before his trip out of the kingdom, but when he returned he seemed to retreat into himself so much that someone could have cut out his vocal cords and no one would have noticed. And something about Brereton put Charles on edge. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he would not have preferred any of Brereton's company if h was offered it.

So, after many hours of deliberation, Charles had decided to visit Sir Henry Norris first. Then, depending on his answers, he would visit Smeaton or Brereton, then Thomas Wyatt, and lastly George Boleyn. While he was in the Tower, Charles decided it would probably also do him good if he visited that plotting weasel the Earl of Wiltshire as well. He was being held indefinitely, and it wouldn't hurt if he heard his side of the story. And the cell above his was… Anne Boleyn's. Should he even go there until after consulting with Henry about his discoveries? It would have to depend on what her accused lovers said. The jury was still out on her case anyway. However, he would need somebody to corroborate the statements he would inevitably hear, and he'd have to be careful about who he would take with him. Henry was definitely out of the question. Though the King was his best friend, he would obviously be too intimidating and subjective as an observer. The same would go for Cromwell, though he wasn't too sorry about that. Cromwell had his own agenda, that much was certain. They had a mutual understanding of dislike, and he meant to keep it that way. Both of the Seymour brothers were out of contention. They had too much to gain if Anne was executed, and he hated men who manipulated their womenfolk to elevate themselves. Look at Thomas Boleyn! No one in the peerage could be trusted to accompany Charles, which led him to one person. Sir Anthony Knivert was both one of Henry's longtime, trusted friends, but also one of Charles's. He was good natured, but loyal, which was something that Charles needed in this situation.

After deciding what he was going to do, Charles laid on his bed. However, sleep would not come to him. He guessed that it was his conscience, screaming at him for even suggesting that Anne was unfaithful to Henry in the first place. She did insist on abstaining from sex when Henry was pursuing her, something that most women gave Henry willingly. She seemed devoted to Henry, but looks and appearances were far different than motives and endgames. What was Anne's endgame? Was it to seize power, for herself and her family? Was it to do away with the Catholic Church and put England into an upheaval? Because that's what it seemed like to Charles and the rest of Court now. However, if she did actually love Henry, and wanted what was best for England, then it was his duty to save her from condemnation. But his conscience was getting ahead of itself. No evidence had yet to show itself that Anne and her consorts could be innocent. Only Henry's aggrieved statements triggered this curiosity, and for all Charles knew, he or Cromwell could have been harmlessly exaggerating. He would get his answers tomorrow. Tomorrow. That's what Charles continued to tell himself until the welcome arms of sleep took him.

* * *

Anne Boleyn stared desolately out into the night, the few ladies that had been allowed to accompany her sound asleep behind her. Her eyes were no longer swollen from crying, her tears had stopped falling hours before. She watched the light in the windows of other homes, noting how they were slowly extinguished as night went on. She laughed to herself that the subjects of England would be able to sleep soundly at night knowing their King was manipulating their justice system to meet his own ends. Anne knew that she would not be sleeping tonight. She found it hard to rest knowing that her beloved, at least, he was still her beloved in _**her**_ heart, purposefully and willingly had her imprisoned in the Tower just so he could marry that Seymour whore and start anew in his quest for a male heir. _**She**_ would have, and still could, give Henry a strong son, if only he gave her a fighting chance. Maybe it was his plan to startle her with his display with Jane, to cause her to miscarry on purpose so he had an excuse to do away with her! No, Henry wouldn't be that heartless, not to her anyway. He might as well have thrown her in a dungeon if that had been his plan all along. He would come around to his senses. He wouldn't actually let them execute her, would he?

* * *

The next morning, Charles Brandon found himself tailing Sir Anthony Knivert to the Main Hall. He quickened his pace as they began to near more people, more hungry vipers. He clapped a hand on his good friend's shoulder and quietly pulled him aside into an empty corridor.

"Anthony, before I say anything else, I need to know that your allegiances lie first and foremost with His Majesty." Charles whispered urgently. Seeing that Knivert was vehemently nodding his head in agreement, he continued. "I have some suspicions on Her Majesty's arrest. It just doesn't seem to add up to me. Henry himself believes that she's slept with over a hundred men! He's driving himself crazy over it, and it's not healthy. As much as I personally dislike our current Queen, I can't allow anyone to manipulate our great monarchy like this, especially Henry. I want you to come with me to the Tower today, to do our own little digging. I need someone I can trust. More importantly, I need someone else that I know Henry will trust. Can I count you with me?"

Anthony quickly processed this stunning information. It was true that many people were having trouble wrapping their minds around these allegations, including his own. Anthony did not have any ill will against Her Majesty, in fact, he actually found her quite refreshing to most of the other women at Court. But what he found most surprising was that Charles, the same Charles Brandon that he had grown up with and had become a little surly recently, wanted to save Anne. Well, maybe not saving Anne in his mind, but not having her executed.

"You can count on me, Your Grace. Let us set off presently."Sir Anthony Knivert said in a normal tone of voice. After a shallow bow, they set off towards the Tower.

* * *

Thomas Cromwell, Lord Chancellor, entered the cell of Thomas Wyatt with a triumphant smirk on his face. Everything was going according to plan! The King had readily accepted the notion that Lady Anne Boleyn had been cheating on him, which was better than expected. Cromwell had thought that he would have to nudge and push Henry to sign the arrest warrant, but he did it almost without a second thought. That woman would learn not to meddle in the affairs of politicians, of powerful people, of men. Not only did he manage to get her on trumped up charges of treason and adultery, but he managed to get a bonus charge of incest! In addition to that, one of the accused had even confessed without torture! Cromwell was so overjoyed he thought that God was smiling on him. And his good friend, Thomas Wyatt, wouldn't have to face death, though it would be smart for him to leave Court, at least for a while. The King was getting more volatile every day.

Thomas Wyatt looked up despairingly as the door was closed behind his visitor. His tear stained face registered no relief or joy at the sight of his former friend. Wyatt knew that this whole thing was a sham, and he could tell by Cromwell's expression that he knew it as well. A scowl formed on Wyatt's face, adding to his already disheveled appearance. How could someone he thought was his friend condemn so many innocent people to death? This was selfishness to the extreme.

"Am I to be executed, then?" sighed Wyatt. "And what of the others?"

Cromwell raised his eyebrows in surprise. "No. We did not find any evidence against you. Brereton, Smeaton, Norris, and George Boleyn were all found guilty, and they should be executed tomorrow. The Queen was also found guilty, but will be executed later. But you, Thomas? No, you are free to go." Cromwell smiled. It was not reciprocated.

"What? But I'm the only one that's guilty!" exclaimed Wyatt in disbelief. This time Cromwell frowned.

"Let's pretend I didn't hear that Wyatt. Now just collect your belongings and leave. I suggest leaving Court, too. For good."Cromwell swept out of the room, never glancing back.

Thomas Wyatt hadn't exactly meant what he burst out, and was glad that he wasn't punished for his lack of self control. But it still wasn't fair about the others. He splashed some water on his face from the bucket in the corner of his cell, and stared at his reflection. How did he deserve leniency? He shook his head. It didn't matter. Everyone else he ever cared for were condemned, and he was left alone. He sunk to his knees and took a moment to collect himself, his tear ducts long past dry. Then, he calmly picked up his few belongings and began to depart.

* * *

Charles and Anthony were slightly surprised seeing Cromwell beginning to embark on his departure as they arrived. After exchanging brief nods, they carried on into the Tower, accompanied by Master Kingston. However, on their way to Sir Henry Norris's cell, they literally bumped into a day dreaming Thomas Wyatt. Thomas, shaken from his reverie, hurried into a slightly clumsy bow.

"I'm sorry, Your Grace, Sir Anthony, Master Kingston. I wasn't watching where I was going." apologized Thomas quickly. Suddenly, Charles remembered him.

"You're Thomas Wyatt, the one accused with the rest of the Queen's lot, aren't you?" inquired Charles. A flicker of fear came and left Thomas's eyes.

"Yes, Your Grace, but I was just released by Mr. Cromwell."

Charles found it interesting that Thomas was let off so easily, but even more so because Cromwell was the one that released him. It was strange that someone that Henry had suspicions early on in his relationship with Anne had no evidence against him, whereas the others were being held on phantom evidence. However, he could also tell from Wyatt's body language that he was not too thrilled about the current situation.

"Mr. Wyatt, what is your feeling about this entire scandal?"asked Charles cautiously.

"Why, I had the highest respect for him before my arrest, but now I can only see him as an ambitious, self-absorbed fool." spat Wyatt. "That bastard is going to kill anyone in his way for his Reformation, mark my words!" Wyatt's face grew more desolate, detached, and morose. "And poor Anne is going to pay for her father's ambitions! I knew it wasn't a good idea for her to go for the King. Look at the spot she's in now…"

Charles and Anthony sympathized with the first part of Wyatt's tirade. What intrigued them more was the later part of the submission. So all of this scheming wasn't Anne's doing. Charles wasn't surprised. Wiltshire had been getting cockier and cockier as her daughter's influence with the King soared, and he had noticed him sharply exchanging words with his daughter on more than one occasion. But they also felt bad for Thomas Wyatt. His career in poetry was most likely ruined now that he was disgraced by his arrest and banned from Court. And he still had genuine feelings for Anne, even though she scorned him many times in the past.

Suddenly, an idea popped into Anthony's head.

"Wyatt, how would you like to accompany us on our quest to clear Queen Anne's good name?"

Charles was obviously not comfortable with this spontaneous offer. "Hold on with that answer Wyatt." He pulled Anthony aside and started whispering harshly in his ear.

"What do you think you're doing? His just a commoner, and a poet at that! And he was one of the accused, he is too biased to think clearly. You heard his comments about the Queen. And about our 'quest to clear Queen Anne's good name!' I never said that she was bound to be innocent. For all we know, those charges, as strange as they are, could all be true!" Berated Charles.

"We all know that we wouldn't be here if you didn't think that Her Majesty was innocent. Besides, Wyatt is devoted to Anne, and would do anything to help her. The other men will also see Wyatt as if he is on their side, and will therefore be more inclined to tell us all they know. The poor lad hasn't done anything wrong, and yet he is being torn up by all the events around him. He's no threat to us anyway, or the King. You heard how he denounced Cromwell. I think he would be loyal to our cause." Insisted Anthony.

"Fine, I guess he wouldn't do any harm." Charles assented begrudgingly. They dispersed their whispering conference and turned their attention back to Thomas Wyatt, who was standing uneasily in the middle of the corridor.

"If you wish to, Master Wyatt, you may accompany us on our inquiries. Please be tactful and try to leave most of the interrogating to us." Said Charles. They briskly continued down the corridor, stopping outside the cell door of Sir Henry Norris. Thomas Wyatt was trailing quickly behind them, deciding to join the group. Charles nodded to Master Kingston to open the door.

* * *

Sir Henry's accommodations were certainly not the worst that the Tower had to offer, but they were a far cry from his normal chambers. Sir Henry's face was grizzly from his lack of shaving, his shirt stained with miscellaneous fluids. He sat on a crude stool next to an even more crude table, a scribbled piece of parchment, a long dried quill and ink pot, and the remains of some stale bread inhabiting it. The cell was otherwise quite sparse, small openings at the ceiling providing light and fresh air to the space.

As the men entered the room, Sir Henry's head slowly tilted up in recognition. He looked as though he hadn't slept in days, and judging by the state of the bed, he probably hadn't.

"What do you want?" Norris croaked despairingly. He had already been through his story many times with Cromwell and his crony Sir Richard, but no matter what he said they would always change his story back to the one they were convinced was true. Why would he have slept with the Queen, if he were courting Lady Sheldon? Why would the Queen even want anyone like himself in her bed anyway, when she was still young and beautiful? These new visitors would probably be looking for the same story, but he was resolved not to give it to them.

"We have come to hear your side of the story. My friends and I are having trouble grasping the reality of the charges against you and Her Majesty the Queen, and are looking for the real culprits. Feel free to talk to us openly and freely. We will not be using any such methods of torture or intimidation, I promise." said Charles.

"Yes, yes, that's what they all- what is that I heard you say? You believe the Queen to be innocent? Therefore you think that I might be innocent?" asked Norris.

"Yes, that is what we said. You and I both know that this is Cromwell's doing." stepped in Wyatt. "Now tell these men your story, so we may all emerge from this mess alive."

"After I was arrested Master Cromwell and Sir Richard Rich took me to a secluded chamber for questioning. I insisted that I had never bedded the Queen, but they wouldn't listen. They asserted that I had been to Her Majesty's apartments a lot as of late, but that was simply because of the recent approval that I had received to court Lady Sheldon. Lady Sheldon is, of course, one of the Queen's most trusted ladies in waiting, so naturally she was usually in close proximity to the Queen. That's exactly what I told them, but they dismissed it as a folly excuse. I rebutted that with the fact that I am not nearly as young as I used to be, and I doubted the Queen would have had any fancy with me anyway. She is young and beautiful, and if she had even thought about being unfaithful, she would have done it with a more suitable man. Cromwell, though, had eye witnesses that said I shared an "intimate moment" with the Queen. The only time that I had actually spoken to her was the time I asked her for permission to court Lady Sheldon. We had an agreement on religion, that was all! I told them this too, but again, they did not believe me. It was as if they were expecting only one specific answer, and by the looks on their faces they were not expecting to hear a confession out of me anyway. It seemed like the whole interrogation was a mere formality, really. Immediately after that, they threw me into this cell and I haven't left it since." explained Sir Henry.

The trio were stunned, but of varying degrees. Thomas was stunned simply because Sir Henry had managed to explain that all in one sitting. Anthony was more shocked about the way that Sir Henry had been mistreated and quickly dismissed by Cromwell. Charles, however, was completely blown away. He had expected hints at the Queen's innocence, but Sir Henry's arguments made complete sense to him. Why had this good man been condemned, when the evidence was quite obviously circumstantial at best? There was definitely some plot brewing, and he had to stop it before it boiled over, and all of England would have to pay the price.

"Thank you for your honesty, Sir Henry. I will see to it that you are exonerated for you 'crimes,' as they seem to be nonexistent." announced Charles.

"I thank you, Your Grace, for hearing me out. I do hope you can cancel my execution, knowing that someone other than myself thinks me innocent!" said Sir Henry Norris.

They exchanged brief nods and exited the cell. With this new information Charles decided to visit Brereton's cell next. Not only was it relatively close to Norris's, but he also wanted to hear another relatively higher-up's version of the events. Also, he knew for a fact that Brereton had confessed upon arrest, and he wanted to hear why.

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**A/N: **This update was significantly longer than I had planned, but all of you awesome readers have motivated me to write more! I know the part with Anne seemed slightly out of place with the rest of this, but I figured that since this is eventually going to be an Anne x Henry fic, I should insert some snippets of their frames of mind until they become more central. Now I know there is no Henry in here, but he will make another appearance next chapter, whenever that may come. Sorry, no regular updating schedule in mind, there is this impediment called school that I have. It's quite unpredictable! In the meantime, reviews are always appreciated!


	3. Who's ACTUALLY Guilty!

**Disclaimer: **Once again, I own nothing!

**A/N:** Thanks to all that have read, reviewed, or alerted/favorited this story! It is much appreciated. I am sorry for the late update, but I have been recovering from a concussion, a hectic school week, and now I am sick, so I really just haven't found the time for writing! But the ideas are still coming! Happy reading!

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**Chapter 3: Who's ACTUALLY Guilty?**

King Henry VIII sat alone in his ornate office, tightly clenching a quill in his hand, the ink long since dried upon its tip. He stared dumbly at a blank piece of parchment paper, eyes wide with thought. Henry had thought to write a love note to his beloved Jane Seymour, as it had been a few days since she had departed from Court to the tranquility and comfort of Wolf Hall. Alas, he did not know what to say. Or rather, he did not have anything to say, and that was what troubled him. Once he had sent Jane off so she would not have to be present for the slightly unpleasant transition from his liaisons with Anne to her, Henry had expected to feel that fiery passion he had once felt for Anne, especially as if he had to wait 7 years for her. Yet, once she was gone, all he could think about was Anne. How could have Anne betrayed him? The thought did not seem possible, yet Cromwell presented him with enough evidence to prove it. Henry also blamed the witchcraft that Anne had probably cast upon him, making him attached to her even though he wished to be rid of her.

That was the second thing that troubled Henry. He wasn't actually sure with himself that he wanted Anne to be gone. What did he want? The only answer he could be sure of was that he wanted a son; a strong and healthy Prince of Wales. Jane could be able to give him one for sure! But if she failed… After all, Anne had promised to give him a son, and all she had produced was a daughter and two miscarriages. Maybe it would be safer to keep trying with Anne, since he did go through countless miscarriages and stillbirths with Katherine before dumping her for Anne. Then he wouldn't need to go through all the trouble of executing and publicly shaming Anne…

No. Henry couldn't think like that. How could he spare some scheming whore's life, when all she had done was use and betray him? His mind was not working properly without Jane's presence, that was it. The reason he couldn't compose a truly loving and eloquent letter was because his great feelings for her couldn't be translated into words! He needed to express his love in person. Anne would get her comeuppance and Henry would visit his love. Henry dropped the quill on the desktop, stood, and looked out the window. Yes, the weather was nice today, and it didn't look like it would rain any time soon.

"Ready the horses!" Henry barked to his grooms he knew were waiting outside his door. "Let us set out for Wolf Hall immediately. Pack the necessary supplies in case I decide to stay the night!" He brushed out of the room, walking with a firm determination. To most of the courtiers it looked as though Henry was determined to see Jane, but really, he was determined to keep the thought of Anne out.

* * *

Charles Brandon, Anthony Knivert, and Thomas Wyatt stood in an intimidating triangle around William Brereton. When the guards had pulled the heavy door to his cell open, they found him praying calmly to the cross placed on a plain table. When he saw them in the doorway, he got up and smiled. He pulled up a stool and sat down in the middle of the cell. Brereton's eyes twinkled with mirth and seemed clean enough given the lack of supplies. But most importantly, Brereton looked well rested, something that not even Master Kingston was used to. The trio found all of Brereton's body language to be suspicious, and subsequently decided to stand in the formation that was mentioned above.

"Hello, Your Grace, Sir Anthony, Sir Thomas. What can I do for you?" Brereton asked pleasantly.

"What you can do for me, Master Brereton, is answer our questions truthfully and honestly." said Brandon. "First off, you confessed to sleeping with the Queen, correct?"

"Yes." replied Brereton simply.

"How many times did you sleep with Her Majesty?" asked Anthony.

"Many times. The Queen was always ravenous to have sex with me." boasted Brereton. "She simply could not stop."

All three men found this answer unrealistic. As Brereton was one of the King's grooms, he would have been with the King most of the time while at the palace. And, since the King had recently lost interest in Anne, Brereton would have had a hard time to make time to visit Anne's chambers as often as he claimed. Noting this, they moved on.

"When did you first engage in carnal relations with Queen Anne, and how did this start?" asked Sir Thomas.

"Well… um… it was…" Brereton stumbled over his words, trying to dredge up some imaginary date to no avail. He should have thought about this! How could he have been so stupid as to not already formulate some sort of story! "Ah, well, I cannot remember the date, but one evening one of Her Majesty's ladies came to me and whispered that Her Majesty wanted to see me, in her chambers, and that's just when it happened."

Once again, Brereton's testimony was unbelievable. Anne was very selective over which courtiers she actually kept company with, let alone if she were to sleep with them. She was not like Henry and had members of her household inform people that she wanted them in her bed! Anne would have gotten to know Brereton first before bedding him. Charles even began to doubt if Anne even knew who Brereton was. Obviously Brereton had not slept with the Queen, but there had to be a reason for his lying.

Thomas was the most irritated by Brereton. How could somebody confess to a crime that they didn't commit? Why would he want to die so badly? What did he have against Anne? Thomas Wyatt lost it. Slowly, he raised his hand and slapped Brereton across the face.

"What did she ever do to you?" he started to punch him. "Why would you even confess to sleeping with her?" he yelled at the top of his lungs. "What are your motives you piece of filth!" he continued to pummel Brereton, who silently took the beating.

Charles and Anthony moved forward and struggled to restrain him. Who knew such a normally docile poet could be so enigmatic when he was impassioned? After a few more moments of struggle, they pulled Thomas off of Brereton. Thomas spat on his face. Charles moved forward and turned Brereton onto his back, placing a strong booted foot on his stomach.

"Tell us your motives, Brereton. We will find out eventually, but by then it will be too late for you. Tell us now, and you can spare yourself same pain and torture." reasoned Charles.

"I would never speak my intentions to you!" Brereton gasped out. Charles removed his foot and kicked him.

"Let's go, boys. We have what we need for now." Charles announced, as he knocked on the cell door, signaling that their business was over in the cell.

If two of the four men he needed to interview revealed that Anne was innocent, Charles could only guess what the other two would have to say. However, he wanted to have a full report before presenting his findings to Henry, and he was not too comfortable at the prospect of confronting a Boleyn yet, so they descended the stairs into the inky depths of the Tower dungeons.

* * *

_No wonder these are called the dungeons,_ Charles mused, as he grimaced at the smells and sights of the Tower dungeons. Thomas jumped and yelped as a small pack of rats crossed his path in the corridor. Anthony hopped over a puddle of mysterious fluids, a murky brown that had who knows what floating in it. They finally stopped outside one of the many doors, and entered.

Mark Smeaton was lying on a heap of hay in the corner of the cell. He was covered in mysterious grime, his eye swollen shut from a torture device. The Rack had given him deep lacerations on his ankles and wrists, and all of his open wounds seemed to be contracting gangrene. Smeaton's breaths were shallow, and he hardly moved when they entered his cell. An unpleasant odor of waste and blood secreted from his person, but he was uncharacteristically indifferent.

"Master Smeaton?" ventured Thomas. "Mark? Can you hear us?"

"Mmmm." mumbled Mark. He no longer had the energy to articulate all the time.

"You confessed your guilt to bedding the Queen, did you not?"

A nod. Yes.

"But only under torture, correct?"

Another nod, another yes.

"Are you truly guilty of the crimes against you?" asked Thomas.

A shake. No.

That's all they needed really. _If I were in his place, I probably would have admitted to it too…_ thought Brandon. The conditions in these dungeons were horrible, and this man had been inhumanely tortured. He bent down and grasped Smeaton's shoulders lightly.

"I promise you I'll have you freed and treated as soon as I can. Hang in there." assured Brandon.

As they left those godforsaken dungeons, Charles knew that Anne was innocent. 3 out of 4 were already cleared, and he highly doubted in the first place that Anne and George were incestuous. But, just to be sure, he would go and question Lord Rochford. However, he began to wonder who would be mad enough to mount such a shaky case against the Queen, and almost get away with it. It did not matter yet, all that was of urgency was to get Henry to drop all charges and release the accused immediately. Who knew what damage was being wreaked already from these actions.

* * *

Henry walked with Jane through the forest on that lovely spring afternoon, her brothers and father trailing at a distance behind them. Henry was finding this visit to be calming, almost therapeutic. However, that wasn't exactly he had been looking for when he came calling today. He had longed for some passionate love, some sexual tension. Instead, he had to content himself walking with Jane through the woods, with absolutely nothing of interest coming out of her mouth. He had heard rumors at Court that Jane Seymour was absolutely one of the blandest ladies at Court, and he was beginning to believe them.

No! Jane was his English Rose, his image of all that is virtuous. He was just not having the same dynamic with her as he had had with Anne, because this time he was courting her properly. Once he had Jane's maidenhead, all would be more enchanting and lustrous.

"Look, Your Majesty!" Jane suddenly gasped excitedly, pointing at a nearby pond. Two elegant swans were bathing each other in the crystal clear waters of the pond. Henry smiled, picturing himself as the swan pouring water on the other. Suddenly he frowned, and pressed on in their walk at a slightly faster pace. The second swan had reminded him of Anne.

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry about this late update again, and the shortness of it. I'm not too pleased with it myself, but I needed to get something out, you know? Next time I promise we'll finish Charles's investigation, and we'll see what results in his report! Hope you like the Henry action! Review, especially if you have any cool ideas going forward! I'm open to suggestions!


	4. Plots Galore!

**Disclaimer: **I *obviously* don't own anything!

**A/N: **Hey everyone, thanks again for your reviews and stuff like that! It really makes me want to write knowing there are people who want to read! I've been feeling guilty about the space between my last update and the one before that, so I'm resolving to write faster from now on! Obviously though, that resolution did not exactly work out, but I'll try again next time. On the bright side, I came back from this weekend with a gold medal for NECIS Varsity Basketball! Anyway, back to the story!

* * *

**Chapter 4: Plots Galore!**

The sun was starting to set, and Charles and co. had only the Boleyns left to talk to. Charles didn't even know if he had the courage to face the Queen that evening, since he did not even have any solid good news to give her anyway. He would see how it went with her brother and father before making that decision.

Thomas Wyatt looked at the darkening horizon forlornly. He knew that Anne had never been guilty, but the lives and reputations of at least 4 good men had to pay the price. If she had just disobeyed her father's orders, abandoned the family scheming, and left with him, he knew all of this could have been avoided. Alas, he could not travel back in time, and he doubted that he would have been able to win her over if he was given another chance. God had not sought it fit to let them lead a loving life together, not matter how strongly Wyatt felt for her.

Anthony Knivert was easily the most chipper of the bunch. He had been the most optimistic about the day's events to begin with, and was rather pleased with the outcome. Sure, he hadn't expected for Brereton to be such a liar, and for Smeaton to be so tortured and broken, but hey, that's why everyone wanted to be a noble, right?

Master Kingston signaled for the next cell door to be opened, the cell housing one George Boleyn. The men shuffled inside, the haggard and fatigued eyes of George meeting theirs. George had not been having the most splendid stay in the Tower, to say the least. It was bad enough to be accused of incest, even more humiliating for his wife to support it, but it had shattered his confidence when he was found guilty. Sure, George had broken one of sacred laws of man and nature, it just wasn't that one. The fact that his dearest sister had to pay for his questionable morals tore him up to no end, and his new visitors did nothing to help it.

Charles wasted no time getting to the point, he did not want to have to ride so long out in the dark. "Let's be plain, Lord Rochford. I'm going to guess that you did not actually sleep with your sister, but somehow the evidence magically appeared by Master Cromwell and you were sent here. Am I right to think you innocent?"

George was relieved. Finally people were seeing the truth! "Yes, Your Grace of Suffolk. I love my sister, but not in an unholy way! Why should I be punished when all I did was support my sister through hard times?"

They all nodded. However, there was one small detail that Thomas did not want to overlook. "But why, Lord Rochford, did your wife Jane Parker denounce you?" It was a valid question, one that deserved answering.

"You see, good sirs, that my wife and I never loved each other. In fact, I despised her before I even wedded her. But because His Majesty wished it so, I was bound to her. She probably wished to end our horrible matrimony, and took these charges to her advantage. It is true I chose not to warm her bed very often, but it was not because I was instead spending the night with my sister!" hastily explained George.

The men nodded their assent again. Rochford's story was unfortunately not an uncommon one, especially at Court. This was another classic failed match in the case of arranged marriages, all for personal and political gain, no matter what the cost. At least, that's what it looked like.

"We believe you to be innocent of your crimes." said Brandon. "I will try to have the King release you as soon as possible."

George merely nodded. He expected no less, given his story and the circumstances. As the men turned to leave the cell George remembered something.

"If you see Her Majesty before I, tell her I'm sorry for everything she has been through, and that she can emerge from this relatively unscathed!" cried George. Thomas, Charles, and Anthony nodded their acknowledgement.

* * *

Before stepping foot into Thomas Boleyn, Earl of Wiltshire's cell, Charles hesitated. He had never liked Boleyn, not from the start. He did not know if he deserved the peace of mind that the King's best friend thought the whole lot to be innocent, and decided to ask Master Kingston about it.

"Master Kingston, how has the Earl of Wiltshire been faring these days?" inquired Charles.

Master Kingston was surprised by this uncalled for question. No one ever asked about the welfare of his prisoners, they just barged into their cells and got what they wanted from them. The only reason why a person wanted to know about the mindset of a prisoner was so that the interrogator could get inside their head. Master Kingston suspected the latter was Brandon's reason for asking.

"Well, Your Grace, Lord Wiltshire has been extremely calm since his confinement. Unnaturally calm in my professional opinion. He eats normally, is relatively well kept, and seems to sleep soundly at night." Boleyn's behavior greatly disturbed Master Kingston. Most people had a least some emotional baggage to unpack upon arrival at the Tower, but Thomas Boleyn did not seem to have any to begin with. The guards posted outside his cell never reported any wailings or crying out in his sleep, and he always ate all the food on his plate. He did not display any symptoms of grief or anxiety for his children's or his own welfare. The man seemed to be made out of stone.

Charles nodded acknowledgement and inwardly cringed. He knew that Boleyn was a reckless plotter, he did not think that he would throw away two of his children's lives in order to salvage his position. He obviously thought wrong. Charles decided not to enter Boleyn's cell, and decided on keeping him as out of the loop as possible until everything was cleared up. He did not need any extra scheming in the already thick plot brewing.

* * *

Charles found himself standing nervously outside the door to the Queen's cell. He had sent the others back to ready the horses for departure, and asked Master Kingston for the key to the room. Charles had thought it best to approach Anne alone, since she was probably already traumatized and not ready for some of the accusers and accused to visit her. But what did he actually intend on telling her? He guessed that he had originally come to offer some piece of mind, but what he was able to say wasn't much. He would just have to improvise like the seasoned courtier he was.

Brandon opened the heavy wooden door to find the Queen gazing pensively out the window, her maids sitting in tense silence in the far opposite corner of the room. The almoner was just leaving. Charles cleared his throat.

"Your Majesty," he said, announcing his presence. He then bowed, waiting for her signal.

"What brings you here, Your Grace?" asked Anne, seemingly uninterested. Anne was coming to terms with her impending death, what was this womanizer doing here disturbing that long and tedious process?

"I have come to inform Your Majesty that I believe you to be innocent of the crimes you have been accused of, and wanted to personally tell you that I will try my utmost to see to it that you are freed and acquitted." he said stiffly. Charles still felt guilty for planting that seed of doubt in Henry's mind, and he knew without a doubt that Anne knew that he was the one that sowed it there.

"I won't lie to you, Your Grace. I admit that I am surprised to speak so plainly about these sensitive matters to me, and even more so that you are favoring my side. But I ask you, why? Why would you come to my defense now, when you were the one that plotted against me before? You, the one who thought that I was nothing more than the King's concubine, never the rightful Queen of England! I know that you were and probably still are a supporter of the Lady Mary, and that you dislike me. Why are you here?" Anne let out her mounting frustration on Charles. He couldn't blame her. She was probably getting restless in the Tower, even when she was preparing herself for her wrongful execution. That struck another chord. She was going to fully allow her husband to wrongfully kill her without a fight. She was that devoted to him, and it scared Charles. Was Catherine that devoted to him? Would she let him get rid of her if he tired of her? He wasn't sure of the answer, and that scared him. He focused back to the question.

"I admit that I was not the most fond of Your Majesty in the beginning, but I cannot stand by and watch an innocent woman get executed by her husband." he stated vaguely. He did not wish to divulge the details to her yet, in case someone thought that they were plotting together. Anne seemed to understand this and did not press further. "Did you perhaps want me to mention anything to His Majesty when I see him tonight to present my findings?"

Anne thought about this for a few minutes, choosing her words carefully in her mind. "Tell Henry that I will forever be his faithful servant." Charles nodded.

"I will, Your Majesty." He gazed outside her window and saw the sun rapidly setting behind the line of trees and buildings. "I am sorry to leave you in solitude again, Your Majesty, but I must ride out before it becomes too dark."

Anne nodded her comprehension. "I understand, Your Grace. Thank you for taking up my case. I wish you a safe journey back to Court and good luck with His Majesty." she turned back to gaze out the window, signaling Brandon's dismissal. He left on horseback with Knivert and Wyatt.

* * *

When Charles returned to Whitehall, the King was nowhere to be found. It was getting dark and he needed to speak with Henry right away! Charles decided to seek out Cromwell instead; he would know where Henry was and when he might be able to speak with him. As Brandon neared the door to the Cromwell's office, he heard two arguing voices behind the closed door. He slowed his footsteps and quietly listened in on their argument.

"I cannot believe she is guilty of such abominable crimes! Yet I cannot think that the King would have preceded this far unless she was culpable." exclaimed one voice. Brandon recognized it belonging to the former nobody and current Archbishop of Canterbury Thomas Cranmer.

"It has caused the King and myself a great pain to discover her deceit, the depth of her depravity." responded the slippery voice of the Lord Chancellor Thomas Cromwell. Charles leaned in closer and strained his ears to hear the rest of their intriguing exchange.

"The fact is Mr. Cromwell, that I love her not a little for the love I judged her towards God, but next to His Grace, the King, and yourself, I was most bound to her of all creatures living." confessed Cranmer. Charles was surprised, he did not think that that inarticulate man could be so sincere. He did not think that any clergyman capable of such emotion. But what he heard next almost made him gasp out.

"You must learn to live without her—" hastily replied Cromwell.

"Without her? But, but, without her is not our whole Reformation in danger? Was she not our great supporter and advocate?" exclaimed Cranmer.

"And who is likely to become our greatest _liability_. Sometime, Your Grace, in order to defeat the evil you must learn to consort with the devil." responded Cromwell.

Both Charles and Cranmer were unknowingly stunned at the same time. Cranmer because he had allied himself with such a sinful and condemned soul, and Charles because most of his suspicions were now confirmed. Anne had been a catalyst for the accursed Reformation, and Cromwell was planting evidence and Anne's downfall for his own personal gain. In addition for Cranmer, he was also being charged to annul Henry's marriage to Anne, something that tore his own heart apart. On his way out the door, he cautiously had eye contact with Charles, and immediately knew that they were on the same side. Charles nodded curtly to Cranmer and entered Cromwell's office.

Cromwell quickly greeted Charles from his desk. "Your Grace, what can I do for you at this late hour?"

"I was seeking an audience with the King, but he seems to be out at the moment. I was wondering if you could tell me where he went and when he would be back." asked Charles lightly, as if he simply had a new story to tell about a girl he had laid his eyes on.

"Ah, His Majesty went out for a ride in the country today," said Cromwell. Getting up and whispering slightly, he added, "probably in the company of Mistress Seymour." he grinned. Charles put on a fake smile. He was starting to hate all of the scheming he was getting himself into. "His Majesty will probably be returning at any moment, unless he has decided to stay the night." he winked at Charles. "In any case, I suggest you talk with the King tomorrow, when he is well rested and in a more amiable mood. I will personally set you up an audience for tomorrow." he walked away from Charles's side, obviously dismissing him.

"Master Cromwell." he bowed quickly and left the office. He would have to confront Henry about all this tomorrow. He sighed. Another night of sleeping with all of this guilt.

* * *

**A/N: **I am so sorry again for the long wait! This story will definitely start to pick up more starting the next chapter, when Henry gets informed of the situation! Any ideas or suggestions? I'd be happy to receive them!


	5. The Big Reveal

**Disclaimer: **I still don't own anything... *sigh*

**A/N: **My updating is so horrible, yet you guys still manage to maintain this awesomely high level of support, which I really appreciate. Thanks for all of the continuous reviews, they really brighten my day :)

* * *

**Chapter 5: The Big Reveal**

The pale gray skies of morning were filtering into the slightly more rustic than usual chambers that Henry was sleeping in. He squinted groggily at the sunlight and turned over to his other side. Sleeping peacefully across from him was a blonde naked woman. Henry's eyes widened. He hadn't, had he? Rape was most definitely a one way ticket to Hell, and as an anointed King, that was inconceivable. In theory, a sovereign could never commit rape because his subjects would simply consent to their carnal relations or risk their wrath. But, the woman sleeping without a care in the world across from him was his Jane, his innocent and pure English rose. She would not have given her maiden head to him before matrimony. He must have accidentally forced himself upon her. Perhaps he could not remember because the sacrifice of her purity and innocence was so blinding he needed to wipe the heinous act from his mind. Yet she looked so happy, so at ease, that he couldn't have raped her. So if he didn't rape her… she had willingly consented to have sex with him before marriage. She had whored herself out to him. All of the virtue and goodness that Jane had supposedly possessed was now disintegrated. Henry could just not get the idea through his mind. Jane had given herself to him.

How could he not remember that? How could such an event like sleeping with his pure maiden not leave an imprint in his mind? Did she seduce him to bed, or did he inadvertently draw her in? But she should have been able to say no, to stop him! She would have protected her virginity at all costs, wouldn't she? Wouldn't it have been at least memorable to have slept with Jane?

Henry bolted upright from the bed, and hastily threw his clothes on. He rustled the covers as loudly as possible, hoping to rouse Jane from her sleep without actually having to touch her. That's when the idea occurred to him. The sheets. He had to check if she was indeed a virgin, that she had not lied to him all along. He pulled the blankets completely off of the bed, taking Jane's deep sleep with it. Realizing her surroundings and the lack of covers on her, she scrambled off of the bed and threw on her nightgown.

"What is it, Your Majesty?" Jane asked drowsily. "Is there something in the bed?"

Henry ignored Jane's inquiries, finally removing all of the covers from the bed. He had ripped off all of the sheets, all of them, leaving a bare, stainless mattress. He had not seen a drop of blood on the sheets. None. Not the slightest red stain, not even a thread. Henry stood completely still mouth wide open in shock. Jane had not been a virgin. He had slept with her, but displayed no signs of fleeting virginity. Henry would have known them anyway, having slept with a fair number of virgins in his days as a bachelor.

"You were not as you seemed, Madam." he stated quietly, tremulously. However, his voice could no longer contain the anger and betrayal Henry was experiencing. "You were not a virgin! _You_ had me slinking around my wife for you, to be with you, to bask in your purity and virtue! How did I not see that? You must be some sort of temptress! A witch! How could I have bore any love for you?" he let out, his words ringing the glass and furniture around him.

"Your Majesty, let me expla-" started Jane.

"There is no need for explanation, woman. You were not what you led me to believe, and in my books, that is called deceiving. I will not allow any of my subjects to manipulate me like that without letting them feel my wrath. Now, how many other men have you slept with before me? Don't deny that you haven't!" commanded Henry.

Jane bowed her head in defeat. There was no way out of this one, thought Jane. Edward might hate her for this, but she had to come out clean now, answer all of Henry's questions truthfully without deceit. "Only one other man, Your Majesty. He was my first love, and I foolishly gave myself to him before I knew what I was doing. I haven't seen him since we broke it off. His name was Thomas Tallis."

Henry didn't actually intend to punish the man that had slept with Jane, for she was a temptress and had probably fallen victim to her spells like he had. He just wanted to see her grovel, to submit to his will. Then another thought occurred to him. Who was another person that he had so wanted to bend and die underneath his will? Anne. Anne, his Anne, who was still locked up in the Tower awaiting execution. But he couldn't execute her now, since he had no other wife in mind to replace her. Could he? She had slept with over a hundred men according to Cromwell, so maybe the world was better off without whores like her. However, this was not the time to decide her fate. All Henry wanted to do now was leave the presence of this despicable prostitute.

"I am leaving. Do not ever bother showing your face back at Court, on pain of death. Should you or any of your family ever come into my presence again, I swear it shall be your last." And with that, Henry left the room, leaving Jane with her unshed tears.

* * *

It was already midday when the King finally returned to Court, which was far too late for Charles's liking. He could only guess where he had spent the night. Before a couple of days ago, Charles would have been overjoyed that Henry was spending more and more time away from the influences of his concubine and with the Lady Jane, but now that he was convinced of Anne's innocence, he couldn't help but wonder if she was also the rightful Queen of England too. Everything that Charles had believed in at Court was turning to shambles, and he didn't know what to believe in anymore. He planned on talking to his wife, his beautiful Catherine, as soon as possible in the hopes of clearing his head. But before he could clear his mind, he needed to clear his conscience. He needed to speak to the King.

After Henry had arrived back to Court he had only a few quick meetings with some advisors regarding what he had missed before granting Charles's private audience. He needed to voice his discovery to someone he trusted before deciding who to blame. The two met in Henry's dining chamber, the same chamber that they had been in when Henry had unknowingly triggered Charles's investigation. Henry sat at the table eating his meal when Charles walked in. One of his grooms accompanied him.

"His Grace the Duke of Suffolk," announced the groom.

Henry nodded and waved the groom away, his attention drifting from his food. As Charles was about to start to reveal his discoveries, Henry cut him off.

"Charles, my maiden of purity and virtue never existed. She tricked me. She seduced me. She was no virgin, Charles, not at all!" he exclaimed. "I feel like all women are betraying and taking advantage of me these days…"

Charles nodded understandingly. This was the best time as ever to change that belief then. "Your Majesty, though you have just found out today that the Lady Jane Seymour had betrayed you, I can inform you with almost complete certainty that this will have only been the _first_ woman to do that to you."

Henry was shocked, his mind blown. Brandon could not be suggesting what it sounded like he was. "What are you saying, Charles?"

"I am saying, Your Majesty, that the Queen is innocent!" said Charles exasperatingly. Henry was a smart mind, but he could be really thick when he wanted to.

"How could she? Cromwell told me that she had slept with hundreds of men! He had confessions! He had perpetrators! He had eye-witness accounts! He had proof!" insisted Henry desperately. He could not come to face the possibility that he had accused and imprisoned his own wife of crimes she did not commit.

"I interviewed each and every one of the accused personally, along with Anthony and Sir Thomas Wyatt. Their stories didn't match with the reports that Cromwell supplied, and it was quite plain how innocent they were. Read the reports for yourself." Charles handed Henry a detailed report that he had written the previous sleepless night.

As Henry leafed through the report a thought occurred to him. "Why did you take Sir Thomas? Wasn't he one of the accused?" Henry instinctively remembered the day he had discreetly asked Wyatt if he had ever loved Anne, to which he cautiously replied that he had from a distance, like most men.

"Cromwell had just pardoned him when we arrived at the Tower." said Charles. "That was another suspicious thing. Wyatt was the most likely person to have slept with Her Majesty, but was the only person released by Cromwell. I think that man is up to something."

Henry could see all the dots connecting in his mind. Cromwell's heavy insistence on the suppression of religious houses, Anne's desire to put the assets of those houses for charitable purposes instead of his exchequer, all the men accused of sleeping with her. It all made sense. "I am starting to think so too, Charles."

He walked over the nearest door and motioned to the groom stationed outside. "Bring Master Cromwell here, immediately." the groom nodded and set off briskly. Walking back to Charles he sat himself in the most comfortable chair in the room.

"We shall have to have a talk with him about it. Now."

* * *

A few minutes later Cromwell calmly walked into the chamber, not suspecting anything. He had assumed that perhaps the King had wanted to send the Lady Jane another love note, or a small token of affection. Or maybe he wanted to go ahead and start the executions of his harlot's lovers. In that case, he brought the warrants for their executions down with him. Everything was going according to plan, and Cromwell was reaping the harvest, or so he thought.

"Your Majesty," he bowed "what can I do for you?"

"What are those papers you have with you? Are they in need of my approval?" Henry asked. He wanted to get the remaining matters of state finished with before he most likely ended up sacking a very proficient man in his service.

"Why yes, Your Majesty. These are the death warrants of Sir Henry Norris, William Brereton, Mark Smeaton, and George Boleyn. I thought you would want to carry on immediately in ridding yourself of this Great Matter." said Cromwell.

Henry grinned devilishly. "Ah, about that, Mister Cromwell. It has come to my attention that these allegations and the proof behind them that you had brought me were completely false."

Cromwell's eyes widened. How did he find out? This operation was supposed to be air tight! "Your Majesty, I assure you, I have no idea-"

"I am pretty sure you have a clear idea of what I am talking about. You and my wife did not see eye to eye on the matters of the money from the suppressed monasteries. So in order to get your way, you decided to play on _my_ ardent desire for a male heir and current quarrels with my wife so I would do your dirty work for you! Well I assure you, Mister Cromwell, that though things with Her Majesty and I have not been too smooth recently, you will not have the chance to see them get better!" Henry turned to Charles and nodded. Charles nodded back.

"By order of the King, Thomas Cromwell, you are under arrest for high treason. You will henceforth be taken as swiftly as possible to the Tower where you will await execution at the King's leisure." Charles announced in a loud and clear voice. The doors opened to reveal uniformed guards armed and ready to take Cromwell to the Tower.

"Your Majesty, please, I did everything for the best interests of yourself and of England!" begged Cromwell as they began to take him away.

"It would have been wise of you to ask first then." replied Henry as the doors shut behind him. He sighed and sunk back into his chair. Sometimes he felt so old, and today was no different. What had he done to get himself into this mess in the first place? He groaned aloud.

"Charles, how did you know that things had gone awry?"

"When you were in your hysteric state the other night, you mentioned that Cromwell said that the Queen had slept with over a hundred men. I knew that was impossible, and went to see what else had not happened." Charles reported truthfully. He was glad to be unloading his conscience, but not everything was finished yet.

"So, are you going to release them? Sir Henry, Brereton, Smeaton, and Boleyn? And the Queen?" asked Charles.

Henry sighed. "I suppose I have to, in order to be the just and fair ruler I swore to myself and God that I would be. But I will have to work hard again to regain their trust. And discover Brereton's true motives, if I skimmed through your report correctly. But Charles, what shall I do about Anne? How will she ever forgive me?"

"Worry about that after you have released her, Henry." said Charles, omitting Henry's title and talking as if they were boys again. "She told me to tell you that she still remains your faithful servant."

Henry smiled, remembering their secret love letters when he had first started courting her. Maybe there was hope for them yet. A lot of work, yes, but still some hope.

* * *

**A/N: **Okay I will admit that I wasn't entirely pleased with the end of this chapter, but it needed to be written! I don't know why I found it so difficult to write, but I just did. And I know it seems a little far reaching for Jane to have slept with Thomas Tallis, but I wanted to use a character from the show and maybe, just maybe it could have worked sometime after William Compton died of the Sweat. It's fiction people, so just use your imagination! Things can really start to get fun starting with next chapter, and some actual Henry/Anne interaction! Comments or suggestions? Feel free to post them!


	6. Reunions of Varying Temperatures

**Disclaimer: **I think you guys know it by now…

**A/N: **I've got some mixed reviews from last chapter, which is actually really pleasing. I know what happened in the last chapter was spontaneous and probably not to everyone's liking, but it shows that you guys are all a diverse audience, something that is just perfect to have the best results in a story. So thank you guys for the great reviews from last chapter. Also, sorry for the update wait yet again. I wanted to get this out on Wednesday or Thursday, but then I got this flu-like illness and now I have this pneumonia-like illness so it's been a little delayed. This chapter we've got some pacifying answers, and probably the most anticipated Henry and Anne reunion!

* * *

**Chapter 6: Reunions of Varying Temperatures**

Jane Seymour stared blankly out the window, dried tears stuck on her cheeks. The world outside reflected her emotions, with wind whipping the trees and water pounding on the windows. Mother Nature seemed to be punishing her too, as storms this severe were almost unheard of in the month of May. Jane's eyes followed the path of one of the many rain drops sliding down the window. It started near the top of her view as a small, puny drop of water, but as it slowly slid down it collected other small drops. As it collected more water droplets, it grew heavier, and eventually dissolved with a splash at the bottom of the window pane. Jane sighed. This was exactly like her. She, the innocent little water droplet stuck to the window, and her loved ones the drops that she swallowed up and took down with her on her fruitless quest for the King. She guessed it was just meant to be.

Behind Jane were her two overly ambitious brothers Edward and Thomas, arguing with their not so scheming father. Jane knew what they were arguing about, as they had been arguing ever since they discovered her whimpering alone and partially naked in the empty chamber that the King had left her in. Sure she understood their disappointment and upset, but they were nearing their third straight hour of arguing. She was upset with herself too for not thinking things through. Of course Henry would have been fuming to find out she wasn't a virgin. One of the biggest suspicions and rumors against Anne was that she wasn't a virgin, so to find out the maiden you thought to be untouched was actually not so pure was understandably angering. But she thought that the King's love for her would have grown so great and tender that it wouldn't matter anymore whether or not she was a virgin. Obviously that was not the case, but she had hoped so. Jane was just too naïve for this world of scheming and advancement. Her family still could not believe that, and were trying to figure out a way to get _something_ out of her. After all, there would not be any suitable men out there to marry her now that the entire Court was soon to find out that the King's great new love was not actually a virgin and was thus tossed aside with disdain.

"Couldn't we just blackmail the King?" asked Thomas Seymour, clearly frustrated. "Surely there has to be something that Jane or we have noticed that could be used to squeeze a little money or a title out of him?"

Jane turned her gaze from the window and onto her extremely tense brother. "That's treasonous talk there, Thomas." she warned her brother.

"Well, we wouldn't have been forced to talk treasonously if YOU hadn't lied to all of us about your virginity!" screeched Thomas.

"All of you quite down!" yelled Edward from his sunken position in one of the room's chairs. "We are in no position to make demands of the King, no matter the bargaining chip, if we had one. Since Jane is now being seen by the Court as a liar and enchantress, anything that comes from our family will be seen as another lie."

"We were lucky enough to escape without further punishment." put in their father. However, no one paid him any attention.

"We must bide our time, and wait until most of the King's anger for us has cooled down." continued Edward. "Let us calm down and regroup here at Wolf Hall, and then revisit the issue in the future."

The rest of the men nodded, while Jane simply gazed blankly ahead. Her opinion, which was already valued so little before she had fallen out of the King's good graces, was now of no concern to her family. As her brothers and father began to file out of the room, Thomas slapped her hard across the face. The loud crack resonated throughout the chamber and down the hallway, but was not met with any response, save for more whimpering from Jane.

In their eyes, she had ruined everything they had worked for, and she was the one who was going to pay for it.

* * *

Some miles away, another woman that had been close to Henry's heart gazed out a much different window. Anne Boleyn had seen her father, brother, friends, and acquaintance walk out of the Tower as free men, and knew it was only a matter of time before they released her as well. She wondered how it would be done. Would they simply allow her to walk out like the rest of the "conspirators" or would she be escorted back to the palace? And if she was to be escorted… would Henry be there? He was her great love, her great oppressor. Which face would he show her today, if at all? She had already decided that she would have to steel her heart in case he decided to show his second face, even more so if decided to flaunt around the Seymour wench. Even if Henry let her go, it didn't mean that he wouldn't be waiting for her to stumble a second time so he could get rid of her without scandal. She would have to be prepared, for she was not going to be knocked off of her throne without a fight.

Just then the door to her chamber was opened by a guard in beefeater's livery. Master Kingston stood in the doorway with Charles Brandon and a few of the King's men behind him. Kingston and Brandon had smiles on their faces, happy that this woman who had been through such an ordeal was being freed. Brandon stepped forward, unraveling a roll of parchment.

"Your Majesty, by order of the King, you are to be released and fully acquitted of all the charges against you." he rolled the parchment back up. "You are to come with me down to your waiting carriage. You ladies, I trust, can pack up your belongings."

Anne nodded, the image of a strong and poised woman. As she filed out with the rest of her escort, she took a small glance back. She was leaving her rooms in the Tower, hopefully never to see them again. She remembered when she had last stayed in her apartments, before she had married Henry. She had been so giddy, so excited to finally be with him, body and soul. She was ready to do things properly, pleasing herself, her King, and her family. Now she was leaving these apartments a second time. How the tables had turned. She was leaving a place she would now associate with desolation, desertion, loneliness, and looming death. Anne knew that probably no one would be pleased now. They had probably all put their eggs in the Seymour basket, and now the one person who threatened that basket the most, Anne, was free back at Court.

When the group reached the lone waiting carriage, Charles Brandon leaned down and whispered in his Queen's ear. "Good luck." He then went to mount his horse behind the carriage. Anne knew what was waiting for her inside, now. She walked up towards the door to the carriage, closed her eyes, and (after the door was opened for her) sat across from her would be killer.

* * *

Henry sat in the carriage with baited breath. He wanted to see his beloved Anne's reaction to his presence in the carriage. So when he saw her close her eyes before entering, he knew that this would not be like the welcoming back he had planned. Once Anne sat down they stared at each other, not knowing who should speak first or what should be said. Henry examined Anne. She looked slightly thinner and a little older since he had last seen her. This was no doubt to due to what transpired in the Tower. The way she seemed to carry herself, more reserved and in control than the fiery young soul he had courted years ago. The way her neck held her head so high and proud… her neck. Henry remembered the time while in the early days of their courtship that he had commented on what a lovely neck she had. That same neck was the one he was willing to have cut in two in order to get what he wanted at the time. He quickly tore his glance away, and focused it on his shoes instead. She would be the first one to speak, not he.

Anne finally decided to break the silence. She was still going to have to live with the man, after all, and she might as well get up to date with palace events.

"So, Your Majesty, what has happened during my extended absence from Court?" she asked, trying to sound as regal and prim and emotionally detached as possible. Being Anne Boleyn, she did not exactly achieve the last part, but did manage to sound non-combative.

"Umm…" Henry did not exactly know how to reply at first. He had been expecting a demand for an apology, which he certainly wasn't willing to give, since the whole thing had not been his fault. He had been prepared to assure her that Cromwell and the Seymours had been punished. He had been prepared to comfort her if she confessed to him how scared she had felt and how she would fix her behavior and give him a son right away. He had certainly not readied himself for an ordinary question.

"Ah, yes, everything has been running smoothly at Court. I am currently looking for a new Lord Chancellor, and you will have to look for a new lady in waiting, but that is really all." Anne raised her eyebrow. It then occurred to Henry that she did not know how it came to his attention that she was falsely accused, and why there were a few vacancies at Court.

"Master Cromwell, it turned out, had a little personal vendetta against you, for whatever reason. And the Seymour _wench_," Henry spat with disgust, "she is never showing her face again in Court, and neither is her family. So you will need to find yourself a new lady in waiting."

Anne simply nodded, not revealing any emotion to Henry. However, on the inside, she was slightly pleased. That Seymour whore must have done something to Henry to make him displeased, something horrible enough to make him banish her and her entire family. She had no doubt that her family would fill her in with a slightly more biased version of events. The news about Cromwell also greatly pleased her. Though he had been a valuable ally while he was still only the King's secretary, she had seen that he had his own motives for the Reformation as soon as he rose to Lord Chancellor. He was getting too ambitious, and maybe his own actions were starting to come back against the King. Perhaps it was Cromwell that he had seen getting dragged across Tower Green last night. She hadn't been sure though, since it was dark. However, she was not about to let Henry back into her heart as fast as he had come into, and not nearly as fast as when he had tossed her aside. So, she did not let her satisfaction with these latest Court events show to him.

Henry, though, was waiting for the gratitude, the hugs, the gratefulness that he felt was deserved for telling her these things. So, naturally he was a little disgruntled when Anne appeared indifferent to all of the news. He tried a little harder. "Your father has retained his earldom and all of his other titles, as well as your brother." She should be grateful my wrath was not too hasty and I revoked them, he thought.

"Good." was all Anne replied. Anne knew she was pushing it, not thanking Henry at all for his so-called mercy. He had been fully prepared to execute her family, so letting them retain their titles after being falsely accused seemed hardly generous to her, and she let it show. She did not want Henry to think that she had become subservient after a second stay in the Tower, because she hadn't.

Things remained silent as they stewed in the remainder of the carriage ride. Henry was not going to admit that he had been in the wrong, and Anne was not going to thank him for an act of mercy that should have been a courtesy. Henry thought that maybe all the time in the Tower had made Anne a little tired and therefore was not thinking straight at the moment. Maybe after reacquainting herself with the palace she would be more open for civilized conversation. As they disembarked from the carriage at the palace grounds, he made sure to help her out like a proper gentleman.

"I will see you at supper tonight." It was not an invitation, but an order. Anne could only bob a curtsy.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

They split ways. Henry, after signaling Charles, headed to the back lawns to shoot archery and talk, while Anne headed towards her family's chambers.

* * *

Anne was not surprised to find her brother and father already waiting for her in his study. George looked a little bit worse for wear, seeming a bit sallow and distraught for a long period of time. However, that seemed natural as he had been accused of incest and adultery not too long ago. Her father, on the other hand, looked completely at ease and eager start on his next scheme. Also present in the room was the Duke of Norfolk, which was also not surprising as he and her father often plotted together. They all bowed slightly when Anne entered the room. Boleyn motioned to a servant to close the door, and they got down to business. That is, her father _tried_ to get down to business, but instead Anne ran over to George and gave him a firm hug. After a short while she released him and sat down in a seat next to him.

"George, I am so glad you got out of that wretched Tower in one piece. And I am so sorry you had to get dragged into-" Anne was cut off by her father, who was less than patient when dealing with his children.

"Yes, yes, that is all very touching, but we need to discuss how we will get Anne back into the King's good graces!" Boleyn said uncaringly. Anne scowled at her father. Had these recent events taught him anything! The Duke of Norfolk just stood there uneasily. While he always wanted to bring down his enemies and elevate himself further, it seemed at the moment he had no enemies to bring down, and was thus in a more mild and less urgent mood.

"I think we all know, father, that the only way to secure the King's favor is if I produce him a son." replied Anne coldly. "And I think you also know, father, is that the only way that will happen is if I mend my relations with him."

"Yes, thank you for pointing out the obvious Anne. I meant how you can best mend your relations as fast as possible so I may get to be a Duke before I am senile!" snapped Boleyn.

The audacity and selfishness of her own father astounded Anne. How could the man that had once so tenderly raised her at Hever turn into this monstrous man? She made eye contact with George and Norfolk, signaling them that she wanted to speak with them later. Without another word, Anne swept out of the room, heading towards her own apartments instead. Maybe talking with her maids, or strolling out in the gardens would lighten her quickly sinking mood.

"And just where does she think she's going?" she heard her father growl as she shut the door behind her. Maybe family does not always deserve to come first.

* * *

Henry furiously shot another arrow at the target, hitting it squarely, but not in the bulls-eye. Charles stood beside him, playing with an arrow in his hands.

"Why doesn't she come back to me, Charles? She should be crawling back to me with words of thanks, of gratitude! But no, she just sits, there, like I was the one in the wrong! But I wasn't!" he let off another arrow, this time completely missing the target. Henry grit his teeth and clenched the bow until his knuckles turned white.

"Well, Your Majesty, I can only imagine that she needs time to think it over. She did go through a lot." replied Charles noncommittally. He personally thought that they were both acting childishly, Henry more than Anne. However, he couldn't let either of them know that, and thus tried to voice as little about the subject as possible. This was, of course, unrealistic because Charles had brought this all to Henry's attention in the first place, and would therefore have to have some advice for him on the matter.

"She just needs to get over her wounded pride! She has no idea how injured my pride was yesterday!" Henry's thoughts of Jane made him snap a loose arrow in half.

"Well maybe you should tell her about it then, Your Majesty. Tell her at supper. Maybe then she will be able to appreciate all that has happened." suggested Charles. Maybe they will just come clean to each other, he hoped.

"That isn't exactly the most tactful table talk on her first night back. What will I say? 'Sweetheart, this pork is delicious! Oh and by the way the woman I wanted to have sons with turned out to be a seductress so I decided to give you another try?' I don't think that would work, Your Grace!"

"Well, maybe if it came up more naturally and with less aggression, Your Majesty?"

"I AM NOT TALKING WITH AGGRESSION!" yelled Henry, throwing his bow and arrow to the ground. He stomped off towards the gardens, leaving Charles behind.

_This is just going so well,_ thought Charles. He was going to look forward being at his own manor tonight, in the company of his loving wife and not his unstable sovereign. _ I only hope that Anne can put him in the right._

* * *

**A/N:** I hope you guys all enjoyed that chapter! It may have been a little slow in the action, but I was really just trying to flesh out the Jane/Henry/Anne dynamic. I didn't want to paint Jane as the stupid bad guy, per se, and was also trying to make Anne and Henry's reunion to be uncomfortable. Their entire reconciliation is going to a turbulent one, that is for sure. This was a little difficult to write for me, and really dragged out. I don't know if it shows in the writing, but a review, be it positive or some constructive criticism, is always welcome!


	7. Ah, Marriage

**Disclaimer:** You guys know the drill...

**A/N:** Thanks to all of my patient readers who had to wait about two weeks for this chapter! I promise to make it extra long to make up for it! And not as in extra long filled with fillers and fluff, but extra long with action and drama (and maybe a little fluff ;) )

* * *

**Chapter 7: Oh, Marriage**

Anne wistfully strolled through the palace gardens, her two closest ladies-in-waiting, Nan and Madge, trailing respectfully behind her. The flowers were all in bloom, showing off a dazzling display of floral arrays that would make even the most skilled gardener gape. However, Anne had no eye for any of the beauty that thrived in the gardens, for she was instead lost in the dark and stormy turmoil that was her mind. Though she had only been imprisoned for about two weeks, it seemed to Anne that she had been away for a lifetime. She felt completely isolated, without a sound ally to lean upon at Court. Henry had taken them all away. Her former friends were now too afraid to approach her, had sided with the Seymours, or truly believed she was guilty of the crimes she was accused of and refused to have anything to do with her. Her own cousin and lady, Madge, would not meet her eyes because of the guilt she carried for giving information to Cromwell and his cronies. _This would have never happened if Henry had not been so self-absorbed!_ thought Anne.

Everything always came back to Henry. He was always the center of attention. Anne grimaced. If he had only believed in her, that she would be able to deliver him a healthy son, none of this would have happened. But no, instead he had allowed her enemies to sow the seeds of doubt into his mind, and willingly watered them so that all whom Anne had cared for were condemned. George would have been executed in shame. Her father, if not also found guilty of some false treasonous crime, would have been expelled from Court in disgrace. Her sister would forever be associated with her usurping witch of a sister. Mark would have been executed. Those other men she was accused with sleeping with, Sir Henry Norris and William Brereton, would have died too, though she did not actually know them well. And her dear, beloved daughter Elizabeth would have been cast aside as a bastard, probably raised to despise her own mother… Anne shuddered. The world would have been a far bleaker place if the evil machinations against her were allowed to continue.

Yet somehow Charles Brandon had decided to take up her case! This is what puzzled Anne the most. Why would someone whom she thought had hated her go out of his way to save a condemned woman? She even acted like she hated him too because of the feelings she thought he had against her! He had everything going for him. The Seymours viewed him favorably, he was still in Henry's good graces; he was in sheer and utter comfort! He had risked all of that on the off chance that she had been innocent, and yet he still went through with his plans. She needed to keep in mind to formally thank the Duke, for without his help she would have been making her way to the scaffolds.

Anne continued to mentally run through these events as she paced around the gardens.

* * *

Meanwhile, Henry stormed through path after path in the gardens, trying to calm down. How dare Charles insinuate that he, King Henry VIII of England, be too aggressive! It was not his fault that Anne insisted on strutting around like she was falsely imprisoned because of his ignorance and incapability to rule, she was just doing it to wound his pride! Little did she know how his pride had been faring! First those Seymours led him around like a foolish hungry puppy, and then Cromwell manipulated evidence for his own agenda, making him look like a dunce! Henry did not need yet another person with influence trampling his ego and pride to pieces.

Henry was glad that Charles was going to be returning to his estates in Suffolk to be with his family, for Henry was growing tired of his company. He had seemed a little too smug for his liking after discovering that he had made drastically horrendous mistake in judgment in regards to Anne's case, and he did not like being around such a blown ego when his was being beaten to the pulp after what seemed like conversing with every person he met. This, of course, was not the case, but Henry was an extremely egotistical man, and amplified each and every insult, slight as it was, tenfold.

Anne, oh he was going to have to put her back in her place. She was just lucky to get out of the Tower in one piece! He could have let her get executed by that fancy French swordsman she had requested, and no one would have questioned it. Yet, being the merciful King that he was, Henry allowed her to come back to Court as his Queen once more. He secretly wondered if she was still capable of carrying sons anymore, or if her ordeal in the Tower had done away with her fertility. Only time would tell. Henry shivered, thought it was a warm spring day. Would he be able to _perform_ that activity with Anne again, after all that their relationship had suffered? She was no longer the same woman that he had married in secret three years ago. Though she may have cast enchantments on him while he was with her, even now he was sure he was man enough for the task.

_How could one woman make me feel this way?_ Henry wondered. He did not feel comfortable knowing that one person, one woman, in fact, made a great King feel so insecure about himself. He had not been with her properly in weeks now, so he was sure that it could not be the work of any hexes or curses she may have placed upon him. It was just the way her eyes pierced his very being, the way they drew him in and threw him into her whirlwind of emotions. No one else had ever been able to do that, not Katherine of Aragon, not his good friend and advisor Thomas More, not Cardinal Wolsey, and not any of his childhood friends, even Charles. And it was precisely because of this power she had over him that made him want to do every horrible thing imaginable to her when he learned of this betrayal. It wasn't just because she had slept with other men, but the fact that she had used her charm and, most importantly, her eyes to lure those all too willing men in. That was the ultimate betrayal, the act that had condemned her to eternal Hell. So naturally he thought that all of those past intentions had been taken back when he had released her from the Tower. Anne was no longer condemned, for he had willed it so. Yet she did not see it this way, and for that she still had much to learn in Henry's eyes. For God's will was his will in England. Which meant that she had to answer to him. And he with this new conviction, he strode with new, more powerful, noble, and controlled forcefulness onwards towards the palace to prepare for supper.

But, as soon as he turned the corner onto the next row of shrubbery and flowers, he smashed head on into an extremely well dressed lady. Though he stumbled backwards, Henry remained upright, if not slightly embarrassed. The same could not be said of the woman he had collided with. She had been pushed flat on her back, her raven hair covering her face. _Raven hair?_ Henry thought. He gazed up and saw two woman dressed in the Queen's household livery rush towards them. _Dear God! _exclaimed Henry in his head as he scrambled down to help up his none too happy wife.

"You may leave us! I have got Her Majesty." Henry called to Anne's ladies before they reached the royal couple. He wanted to apologize in private, mostly because he was afraid Anne would cause another scene. He did not like Court gossip, and this would most likely spread rampantly among the servants at the palace. Better for them to know less. The ladies curtsied upon seeing the King as the one who had mowed down their mistress, and rushed back to the Queen's apartments to ready her gown for supper.

Anne herself tried to scramble out of Henry's grasp at the sight of her fleeing ladies. She was not quite mentally prepared to talk one on one with her husband so soon. Yet in her heart, she knew her efforts were fruitless. She was going to have to talk to her husband, and though she refused to admit it to herself then, her love. Because even though he had thrown her to the wolves only to bring her back again as if nothing had happened, it was because he also had flaws he was not yet ready to acknowledge.

"Calm down!" urged Henry as he lifted her back to her feet. Anne abandoned her struggling and deferred to fix her hair and straighten her skirts.

"What is it you want of me?" she asked nonchalantly, as if she had no idea of what was going on.

"You know why I want to speak with you!" he snapped.

"Oh, it's not that you like to knock over your wife like a wild animal?" Anne replied cheekily.

"For God's sake, woman, will you stop with the insults and detachedness! I am trying to have a peaceful and rational conversation with you to work out your problems, but you are obstructing it in every single way possible!" Henry yelled.

"I'm the one with the problems, aren't I? Is it not possible that perhaps you also have problems with me that you need to work out?" she threw back.

"Stop blaming me for what happened to you! It wasn't MY fault! You know how Cromwell had his own agendas with the reforms! He manipulated ME to get what he wanted. _I_ was the _victim_ here!" he shouted.

"_You_ are the victim? Stop lying to yourself Henry! You knew in the back of your mind that the charges against me were preposterous, but you let them go on because you were ready to dispose of me for that whore Jane Seymour! Don't even argue against it! So tell me, Henry, what exactly makes you the victim in this entire situation?" Anne replied snidely.

"I AM THE VICTIM BECAUSE JANE SEYMOUR WAS NOT A VIRGIN!" declared Henry. Anne stood shocked and wide eyed, not expecting this response. After his declaration, Henry himself was also at a loss for words. He hadn't exactly meant to exclaim that hideous revelation of his now, not this early in Anne's return. Anne gathered herself first.

"And how did you find out about this?" she whispered. Henry hung his head shamefully.

"You know how." was all he could reply. But what happened next is what really ticked Henry off. Anne started laughing. Not a polite giggle or a small cascade of laughter, but a laugh that one would emit in the face of a dying foe. A laugh of scorn and mockery. A laugh not fit to be directed at a great King like himself.

"What could you possibly be laughing about, madam?" Henry asked angrily.

"You know perfectly well what I am laughing about! You made a grand fool of yourself fawning over the Seymour wench like she was a virtuous maiden. Then she seduced you and only in bed did you realize that you had been used and deceived. I think it serves you right for being so blatantly unfaithful!" Anne scoffed.

"You have no right to say such things to me. You are my wife and you will serve me!" decried Henry.

"I gained the right to speak out to you when you first fell for me. I am your wife, that is true, but perhaps the wisdom that you are gaining from this argument is serving you for the future." shrewdly replied Anne.

Henry really had no answer to that. All of this information and insight was not what he was expecting from talking to her. He needed some time to process this information, and he knew that he was losing the argument as well. Maybe Charles was right. Maybe he was too aggressive sometimes.

Henry took Anne's hand and brushed it across his lips. "I hope to have a more civil conversation with you over supper tonight." He looked into her eyes. Anne could see the temporary defeat in his eyes and smiled back at him.

"Of course, Your Majesty." she replied as she bobbed him a curtsy. She rose and they both headed back to the palace to ready themselves for their hopefully more rational and civil supper meeting.

* * *

**A Couple Hours Later**

Henry sat nervously in his private dining chamber, anxiously awaiting the arrival of Anne. He knew that some of his courtiers were wondering why he wasn't throwing a large feast in celebration of his wife's return, but he and Anne both knew why. To throw a feast would mean to acknowledge that he had made a mistake. Henry had no intention to acknowledge that, especially in public. So Anne would have to make do with a private supper with him, though lavish even for Henry's standards. Henry wondered if they would be able to manage to behave civilly throughout the entire meal, or if it would erupt into yet another fiery and passionate argument that they seemed to be having lately. He would just have to play it by ear.

"Her Majesty, Queen Anne!" announced a chamberlain. The doors to the chamber flung open to reveal a stunningly dressed Anne. Her gown was a silvery blue which made her already radiant feature dazzle.

Henry, shaken from his musings, scrambled from his seat and went over to greet his Queen. He grasped her hand and guided her to her seat across from him, and went back to his own seat. They made casual dinner conversation while they were being served, the main topic being Elizabeth's impending betrothal.

"You know that I prefer a French alliance, Henry, and therefore want a French prince for Elizabeth." reminded Anne.

"Yes, I know. But the Emperor is willing to acknowledge our marriage if Elizabeth marries his son! It is no good to be both politically isolated and geographically isolated as a country. And since we can do nothing about our geographic isolation, we need to have a strong alliance with one country soon. The Emperor seems to be faring far better than France at the moment, and so I am more comfortable siding with them now." reasoned Henry.

"But do we have to make a decision so soon?" pleaded Anne. "I have only just returned from captivity, and have not seen Elizabeth recently. Can we perhaps decide after we have had a proper visit with her?"

"I don't see the reason in that, Anne." replied Henry. "Elizabeth will not be making the decision, I will, with some input from you. It is not necessary for us to see her before we make this decision."

"You may not need to see her before you make your decision, but as her mother I need to know of her well being before I can decide something as important as her future husband for her. At least let me visit her at Hatfield before you choose." asked Anne.

Henry thought for a few moments. Was it not his right to choose the best husband for Elizabeth in order to serve her country? But was it not also a mother's right to see her daughter? He winced at the last time Elizabeth saw her mother. She had been carried in Anne's desperate arms while she pleaded with him to give her another chance. At the very least Elizabeth deserved to know that her mother had been granted another chance.

"Okay, you may visit her. But, since I will be busy with matters of state, you must travel with someone that I trust. You will be permitted to see Elizabeth if you take Sir Anthony Knivert with you." concluded Henry. Normally he would have had Charles accompany her, but since he was on leave from Court, he was not available.

Anne reached over and grasped his hand. "Thank you." she said sincerely. It was something that Anne had feared Henry would reject. Maybe he was trying to mend relations between them. Maybe it was a start. Maybe, she thought, she should try more on her end to fix their battered relationship. Though she had not been planning on reasoning with him until a far later time, he seemed to be ready for negotiations, and so she decided to try and mend the rift.

"About what has happened these past few weeks… I know that you were led to believe wicked things about me, but that doesn't fully excuse you from the whole thing. I know that-" Anne was cut off by Henry waving at the attendants to leave them.

"I know that I am not fully innocent. I wanted to have a healthy son to succeed me at any cost, and at the moment leaving you seemed to be the best option." admitted Henry. This was not exactly admitting that he had made a mistake, it was just explaining the reasons he had behind his actions. He quickly explained himself after seeing her flinch at this admission. "But now I see that God has led me back on the right path to do so, with my lawfully wedded wife, my Queen. I do not intend on having a son any other way." It had taken Henry the entire time during his supper preparation to come to this conclusion, and it took a lot of strength out of him to reveal a weakness, a mistake that he had made, to another person, especially a woman.

"And I know that I had not been the most controlled and responsible Queen. But that will change, as will our marriage." vowed Anne.

They stood up from their finished meal and tenderly embraced. Henry grasped Anne's shoulders and bent down to whisper in her ear. "I know that our relations have not been fully mended yet. But I am ready to try." And with that, he left the room, leaving Anne to ponder what exactly had taken place…

* * *

Charles had been looking forward to his reunion with his wife, Catherine, and his son, Edward. But he knew all was not well as soon as he had walked through the front doors. Though Edward came tumbling towards him for a hug, his wife was nowhere to be found. After listening to the babble and ramblings that all young children use to communicate, Charles bent down and placed a hand on his son's shoulder.

"Where is your Mama, Edward?" he asked. His son looked brightly up at him.

"Mama said that she would see you at supper! So hurry up and change Papa!" he bubbly replied.

_Uh oh, this must be about saving Anne._ Charles thought. He released his son and proceeded to change for supper, mentally preparing himself for his wife's verbal onslaught. When he arrived at the table, Edward was nowhere to be seen. Catherine noticed her husband's wandering eyes and explained.

"I did not want Edward here if we were to get into an argument." she said.

"And what would we be arguing about?" asked Charles, though he knew what she would find fault in.

"Your saving of that concubine, Anne Boleyn!" hissed Catherine. "Why did you do that? The Seymours were all for restoring the Princess Mary to the Line of Succession, and saving England from its Lutheran demise!"

"You do know that Queen Anne was not guilty of any of the charges against her, right?" checked Charles.

"Yes, she may have been, but that is not what I am talking about! You ruined a great opportunity for that heretic and whore to be removed from power and letting a good Catholic woman save England!" snapped Catherine.

"You would be perfectly content letting an innocent woman be executed for crimes she did not commit?" asked Charles, utterly horrified. How could his sweet dear wife turn into a such a monstrous, vengeful woman?

"If it was for the betterment of the country, yes! I do not want to see each and every Englishman be condemned for our monarch's religious blunders!" answered Catherine.

"That is treasonous talk, Catherine," warned Charles. "I do not think it is the will of God to allow innocent people to die."

"But I thought you hated Anne, and all that she had done to manipulate King Henry?" asked a now puzzled Catherine.

"I have come to the realization that perhaps those two do love each other, and that Queen Anne is devoted to her country, not just the advancement of her family. Isn't everyone at Court guilty of that anyway?" reasoned Charles.

"But she is steering England down the wrong path, one that surely the dear late Queen Katherine of Aragon would not have allowed!" insisted Catherine.

"So you would offer up Anne Boleyn, George Boleyn, Henry Norris, William Brereton, and Mark Smeaton as sacrificial lambs all for the sake of your beliefs?" asked a stunned and unsettled Charles.

"Yes, if that is what it takes to bring England back to the true Catholic ways." Catherine said resolutely.

"And what of her daughter, Princess Elizabeth?" questioned Charles.

"She is simply the whore's daughter, a bastard in the eyes of Christendom." Catherine wrote off uncaringly.

Charles staggered back, horrified. "I cannot believe you are the same sweet woman that I married a year ago. You have turned into such a venomous viper that I cannot bear to be near you!" he cried as he escaped the dining room.

* * *

**A/N:** Alright, an extra long chapter just for you guys! I hope this makes up for my lack of updates. I also hope that Anne didn't seem to forgiving, Henry too quick to realize his own flaws, and Catherine too evil in this chapter. But, if they do, or you spot anything else in grievous need of fixing, just send me a review!


	8. Making Amends

**Disclaimer:** Still don't own anything...

**A/N: **Thanks again to all of my wonderful reviewers! So, about this chapter… I meant to get it out to you guys before today because this past week has been my Spring Break, but, due to the rare and wonderful Dutch sun, I have been busy picnicking instead of writing. But, back to the story!

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**Chapter 8: Making Amends… **

The disgraced Mary Tudor glanced with disdain at the floor of her small chamber at Hatfield House. She was supposed to be spending the day with her trusted confidant and last living link with her late mother, Eustace Chapuys. But when she woke up this morning to receive her daily chores assignment, she learned that the concubine was visiting her daughter today as well. Not that she had anything against her half sister, the sins of the parents should not be transferred to the children, but it meant that her invaluable visit with Señor Chapuys was going to be cut short. Mary despised waiting on her little sister, when she herself should be treated as the royal Princess that was her right since birth. Though Elizabeth was quite the endearing child, she was still human, and therefore created large messes, threw temper tantrums, and thought that everything in the world was hers for the picking.

Elizabeth. Her half sister was probably the person that Mary felt the closest to in her family. She was young, bubbly, and innocent, something that reminded Mary of herself when she was younger. Though she sometimes acted like a spoiled Princess (what Princess doesn't?) Mary could see that Elizabeth would grow up to be a clever and fiery young woman, much like the concubine and a little like her father. That was probably shocking to most people, and Mary was shocked by it herself when she first made the revelation. She could see her father's stubbornness, intelligence, and strength in Elizabeth, something he was no doubt proud of. Yet she could also see the gracefulness, subtlety, and temperament of Anne Boleyn in her. Mary supposed that if she had met Anne Boleyn under different circumstances she would have respected, maybe even admired, the elder woman as a feminine force to be reckoned with at Court. Yet, she had used all of her powers against Mary, and for that she could not forgive her. She had chosen a sinful path, and Mary did not condone sin after sin after sin. Mary never let her feelings about Anne Boleyn show more than that she thought her to be a whore and concubine, because those were the strongest sentiments that Mary felt for her. No one needed to know the deep and complex details.

Mary rubbed her temples. News travelled surprisingly fast to Hatfield House, and she still could not believe that her father, notorious for his over inflated ego and fiery temper, had let the usurping whore Anne Boleyn live. When she first heard of the charges against Anne Boleyn, she had no doubt in her mind that she was guilty of them. Mary would not put it past the woman she already referred to as a whore to commit so many acts of infidelity. And, seeing as her father was intelligent and the King of England, it must have been her spells and hexes that caused her father to marry her in the first place and coldly discard her good mother. The incest, though, was even a surprise for Mary. However, she did not doubt that such a sinful woman would be caught committing such an unnatural and despicable act such as incest. So, when these charges were mysteriously dropped, Mary had been furious. She knew that the Seymour family was sympathetic to her cause of being reinstated to the line of succession, but more importantly, was a good Catholic family. The relationship between Lady Jane Seymour and her father had seemed to be blossoming quite well, so she was also dismayed to find out that she and her entire family were banished from Court permanently. What could have possibly possessed her father to do such brash things? Mary only hoped that her visit with Eustace Chapuys would clear up the possible discrepancies always attributed to gossip. She needed to hear this dreadful news from a reliable source.

* * *

William Brereton straightened the King's collar as the he and the rest of Henry's attendants put the finishing touches on his outfit. Brereton had not been allowed out of either the King's or his most senior attendants' eye since he was released from the Tower. No one knew why he had admitted to sleeping with the Queen when she was actually innocent, and he did not want any of them to find out. The King had wanted to dismiss him from his service, but the interim Lord Chancellor/Secretary, a man of no real importance to anyone, had advised against it. It would look bad to the people if one of the condemned was subsequently dismissed from his duties after being released. So, Henry had to settle with constant surveillance on him. However, today, the King was going to be in meetings all day with his Privy Council, and the most senior attendants were needed to be waiting on the most important lords of England. It was Brereton's most opportune time to find out what the next step in His plan was, for it surely could not be over.

When they finished dressing him, Henry and his most trusted entourage departed for a long day of discussion and law making. Brereton, making sure no one was watching him, slipped up a back stairwell and continued walking until he was in a shadowed corner of the balcony above the main antechamber at Court. He watched with disgust as the whore strolled down the middle of the room with her ladies, dressed for traveling. He had been mostly out of the loop since his return to Court, and therefore had no idea where Anne was headed to. Luckily for him, another man had entered his obscured alcove. It was none other than Eustace Chapuys. Brereton immediately dropped to his knees and kissed his ring, grateful to finally meet with someone with the same goals as himself.

"Your Excellency," greeted Brereton. Chapuys nodded, and he straightened back up. They moved closer together so that even the lowest of whispers could be easily heard between them.

"I see you have made it back in one piece," observed Chapuys. This was not said in jest, however, as both men were aware of the torture that the musician Mark Smeaton had endured. Though he was back in Court gracing the ears of the nobility, he seemed increasingly aloof and broken. Topping off his emotional scars, his left eye was covered with an eye patch because of its extreme mutilation from torture. The only reason Smeaton was back at all was because he felt that he had an obligation to show the King how wrong he was for everything he did, and him playing here was a constant reminder.

"I would have rather died at the chopping block if it meant the death of that concubine," remarked Brereton. With a renewed vengeance in his eyes, he asked the Imperial Ambassador, "What are His Holiness's next instructions?"

Chapuys shifted uncomfortably. While he was all for the overthrowing or death of Anne Boleyn and the legitimization of the lady Mary, he was not sure if he was willing to have this newest possible death on his conscience. "His Holiness appreciated your efforts to get the concubine executed, and presses the dire necessity of removing Anne Boleyn from power. However, now that she has been found innocent, there is virtually no way of annulling her marriage to the King, for fear of public outcry. And because their marriage cannot be annulled after her death, the bastard Elizabeth will still be in line for the crown. His Holiness does not want anyone of Boleyn blood to be able to lay a claim to the English thrown. Therefore, in addition to the death of Anne Boleyn, His Holiness asks that you also-" Chapuys looked away, "—_take care_ of her bastard daughter, too. By any means necessary. He assures you that God will pardon you if you should make your journey to Heaven because of it."

To his disgust, Brereton accepted this new assignment with glee and ardor. "Does His Holiness have a specific way that he would like me to take care of them with?" he asked eagerly.

"His Holiness thinks that the rifle will probably be the easiest and most effective way to rid the world of both of them." Chapuys answered.

"I assume His Holiness wants this done as soon as possible?" clarified Brereton. Chapuys nodded. "Do you know where that royal whore is headed?"

"She is on her way to visit her daughter at Hatfield." Chapuys replied.

"Then I will have to make haste if I am to have them both dead before sunset!" exclaimed Brereton with bloodthirsty determination. He stormed away, leaving Chapuys alone in the alcove.

_The sadistic brute…_ thought Chapuys. He was not comfortable with the murder of children, no matter if the Pope claimed it was the will of God or not. He believed that the sins of the parents could not be placed on the child. Evidently, the Pope thought otherwise, and he was not a strong enough man to challenge the orders of God's representative on earth. After all, it was to Mary's benefit, was it not? Remembering that he too was supposed to travel to Hatfield today, he went down the staircase and prepared for the trip.

* * *

Charles Brandon was extremely melancholy as he rode back towards Hampton Court. If all had gone as planned, he would still have been relaxing at his home in Suffolk, in the company of his darling wife and son. But after the first night's dinner back at his home, he knew things would never be the same again. After that disastrous dinner, Charles had retreated to his study. Not wanting to confront his heartless wife, he decided to spend the night in it too. Relations between the once happy couple continued to deteriorate until they couldn't even bear to look at each other anymore. Poor Edward had no idea what was going on, and neither parent could bring themselves to explain it to him. Charles and Catherine had decided to separate, and eventually divorce with the King's permission.

Charles could not live with, let alone have children with a woman that had no problem throwing morals out the window so that her goals would be fulfilled. To be mad at her husband for doing the greater good and saving lives was something that Charles did not understand. She had become a cold hearted snake, and he could not live with someone like that for the rest of his life. Surely Henry would understand that.

When he arrived at Court, Charles was surprised to find that Henry and most of the other Lords of the Privy Council were meeting all day. _Why would Henry neglect to tell me that I was leaving during a key law making session? Does he not have faith in me?_ Charles wondered. This did not bode well for him, to fall out of the King's good graces now. He hoped that it was just a scheduling mistake. Being a member of the Privy Council, Charles was still entitled to attend these meetings, and therefore had no qualms bursting into the council room unannounced. This proved to be another bad move on Charles, as he interrupted an exhausted looking messenger reporting to Henry.

"Your Grace! I thought you were in Suffolk with your family?" asked Henry sharply. He was clearly irritated as he hated interruptions.

"I'm sorry for coming unannounced, Your Majesty, but I felt that I was more needed here." Charles decided it was not the best of times to announce his marital problems with the King, especially in front of the entire Privy Council.

"Yes, yes, take a seat, Your Grace. Let the man here finish his report!" ordered Henry. Charles obliged, and took a seat next to the Duke of Norfolk. The messenger continued his report.

"As I was saying, Your Majesty, a large group of peasants are gathering at Lincolnshire. It seems also that they are gathering arms, cavalry, food, and other supplies. They are readying themselves for a campaign against Your Majesty!" exclaimed the messenger. Everyone in the room gasped sharply. Everyone knew that one of the things that Henry feared most was the prospect of another civil war.

"And how do you know this? Who is your master?" asked Henry urgently. He had to know if this information was reliable. He could not take the matter of a possible civil war lightly.

"They call themselves pilgrims of the Pilgrimage of Grace. They are upset about the suppression of their local monasteries, though they have all signed the Oath of Succession. My master, Your Majesty, is Lord Darcy. However, he defected to their cause, and his defection is what prompted me to come to you," reported the messenger.

Once again, everyone in the room was stunned. How could one of their own betray the King and side with the commoners? What were their intentions, and what was Henry going to do about it? However, Charles knew that he needed to get back into the King's favor fast, and this was the best way to do it. Though Charles didn't know exactly how to handle the situation, he had known Lord Darcy before, as a boy growing up. The great man had taught him how to shoot an arrow the summer he was away from Henry's entourage. If anyone was suited to the job, it was Charles.

"Your Majesty, I volunteer to deal with this uprising on your behalf." Charles volunteered boldly.

Henry was surprised by his friend's offer, but also pleased. So maybe Charles wasn't going against him after all. Maybe he was overreacting. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't quite remember why he was mad at Charles to begin with. Besides the fact that he had saw the glaring mistake regarding his wife. But it was time to make amends.

"Alright, Charles, Your Grace, do what you need to quell this uprising."

* * *

Though Brereton had left before him, Chapuys did not see him when he arrived at Hatfield. He didn't expect to either, seeing as he was here to kill while Chapuys was simply visiting Mary. Chapuys had also passed the Queen's group on the way to Hatfield. Since he was just travelling on horseback while the Queen was in a carriage, Chapuys was able to arrive much faster. Lady Bryan was now quite familiar with the sight of the Imperial Ambassador, because he was the only person that ever bothered to visit the Lady Mary. He made his way to Mary's room, where he found her lost in thought.

"Hello, Your Highness," he greeted Mary, using the title she should have held if not for the concubine and her mischievous plotting.

"Your Excellency," she said. Then, unlike most meetings between Princesses and ambassadors, she hugged him. Since Mary's father had abandoned her years ago, she saw Chapuys as a father or uncle-like figure, since she had no other male support. She noticed something was troubling the ambassador.

"What is troubling you, Chapuys?" she asked with concern.

"Mary, I have always been honest with you, and you with me, no?" he asked. Mary nodded in assent. "You know that I have always believed you to be the rightful heir to the English throne." Mary nodded again. "And that I would do _anything_ to restore you to your proper place as Princess of England."

"What is it, Your Excellency, is it something that I have done?" Mary questioned worriedly.

"No, no, dear Princess. I know God is cruel to those deserving of punishment, but I think that sometimes even He should not be so punishing." Chapuys answered vaguely.

Mary was even more deeply puzzled. What could bother Chapuys, the stern and upright Spanish ambassador, so much that he could be rendered almost incoherent? "What is it you know, Señor?"

Chapuys knew it was unwise to tell Mary of the Pope's plans to rid England of the concubine and her bastard, yet he felt it was her right to know what was going on, since she was going to be greatly affected by it. After all, she was a pious Catholic and hated the "Queen," so she would understand why he did it, right? "I have conveyed orders from His Holiness to kill the concubine and her bastard daughter," admitted Chapuys.

Mary gasped in horror. Though she had always wished that some horrible plight would befall Anne Boleyn, she had not wanted her to be murdered in cold blood. She had always imagined that one of Anne's flaws would be her downfall, like her supposed promiscuity and brashness. Even worse, her half sister, Elizabeth, was going to be killed too. She was too young to be so heartlessly taken from this world. Selfishly, Mary also did not want her closest family member to be taken from her as well.

Not betraying her thoughts, she asked breathlessly, "When and how is it going to happen?"

"By gunshot today." Chapuys replied, aloofly. Part of him could not believe he was divulging this information to a girl, when both their fates dangled in the balance.

Before Mary could say anything in reply, a gunshot rattled all the air around Hatfield, followed by a bloodcurdling scream.

* * *

Mary and Chapuys raced down to the courtyard of Hatfield House, to see Anne Boleyn in a heap beside her screaming daughter. Blood flowed from her torso as she writhed in pain, her efforts to stem her bleeding with her hands futile. Her maids as well as Chapuys were frozen in shock. Mary seemed to be the only one still capable of movement. She ran as if her life depended on it, knowing that Elizabeth was the next target.

A second shot rang out.

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**A/N:** Aaahhhh cliffhanger! Sorry to do that to you guys, but I felt that if I had included everything that I had in mind, the chapter would be too long. Hopefully things didn't seem too rushed (or out of the blue) and Mary is not too OOC. I hate how Mary is most of the time seen as a "bad guy/bitch" so I thought I would cast her in some different light. Hehehe poor Anne, just about two days from being released from the Tower and she's been shot in the gut! But then again, this could not have been sooo unforeseen. If Brereton is still alive, he is bound to do anything he can to whack Anne, that's for certain. And he did try to kill her earlier when she was pregnant... Next chapter will hopefully see some of that long sought after Anne/Charles interaction! Reactions, reviews, criticism, all are welcome!


	9. While Breaking Others

**Disclaimer:** I hold you guys to a higher intelligence than this. The Tudors is obviously not mine.

**A/N:** Thanks to all of my readers/reviewers for the response to last chapter's extremely cruel cliffhanger! I promise not to do that again for this chapter, and hope you are satisfied with this one!

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**Chapter 9: …While Breaking Others**

_The second shot rang out._

Time seemed to slow down for Eustace Chapuys, as he watched his beloved unofficial charge, Mary Tudor, collapse to the ground in a heap. How could he allowed something like this to happen? Wasn't he loyal to Spain and Mary before all else? And yet he conveyed the orders from a man from neither party to carry out such sinful acts. Now Chapuys was being forced to watch the consequences of his actions. Behind Mary stood Princess Elizabeth, her tears mixing with the blood spattered on her face. Moving away from the face of the traumatized girl, Chapuys could see that her entire dress was dotted with blood, from her mother or sister he couldn't tell. His gaze shifted from Elizabeth to the concubine Anne Boleyn. She was still sprawled on the ground, the entire expensive jeweled bodice she was wearing drenched with the still flowing blood from her abdomen. But as he watched the crimson flow, he noticed the rise and fall of her chest. She was still alive, for now. As his gaze shifted to Mary, he was snapped out of his reverie.

Chapuys rushed to Mary's side, assessing the damage she had taken. The shot that was meant for the head of Elizabeth had misfired and instead hit the shoulder of Mary. Blood gushed from the place where the bullet had entered, soiling both her dress and Chapuys's outfit, not that he took any notice. _There's just so much blood, everywhere,_ thought the dazed ambassador. He tried to apply pressure to the wound, but flinched as Mary gasped at his touch. _It's probably shattered her shoulder blade_, he observed. However much pain Mary was feeling, she would be dead if he did not at least attempt to slow the bleeding. Chapuys realized that no one else had moved since the first shot was fired, leaving Anne Boleyn to bleed on the ground. Though he personally despised the woman, Mary had not wanted things to be this way, and he felt the need to respect her wishes, if it was the last thing he did.

"Someone, find a physician!" he roared at the distressed maids. "Help the Queen! Alert the guards that someone has tried to take the lives of both the Queen and Princess! And for God's sake, send word to the palace of what has happened!" yelled Chapuys with the authority one would expect from an experienced ambassador like himself.

Chapuys's voice shook all of the slack jawed maids out of their temporary paralysis, and they quickly began scurrying about to complete his orders. Lady Bryan took Elizabeth away with her, while Nan and Madge began applying fresh linens to their lady's wound. Madge gasped when she saw the cleaned bullet hole.

"How could one small hole cause so much injury?" she asked in bewilderment. Nan sighed inwardly. Though she respected and usually got along with her fellow lady-in-waiting, Madge's naivety was often exasperating.

"It doesn't matter. Just hurry and help me move her to a safer place!" Nan snapped. Madge, remembering the task at hand, gathered a couple more ladies to help them transfer their Queen to a bed while they waited for the physician. However, a strong masculine hand grasped her shoulder. It belonged to Sir Anthony Knivert, who was supposed to have watched over the Queen while she was visiting. His eyes were grave and his voice hard.

"Her Majesty is still alive?"

"Yes, Sir Anthony. She won't be for long though if you continue to hold us up here," answered Nan. Nan was fiercely loyal to the Queen, and only the Queen. She was not afraid of all the pompous and spineless sheep that circulated around Court.

Anthony nodded. He would have to report this to the King in person, though he did not want to leave Anne alone here while the perpetrator remained at large. However, Henry was sure to be furious, and would need the smooth explanation of someone he was actually close with. Anthony looked back as the ladies carried the worryingly still form of the Queen inside. She was in good hands with her ladies, he thought. And besides, the Spanish Ambassador was still here if anything went glaringly awry…

Meanwhile, Chapuys was still bent over the broken body of Mary. Some of the other ladies had left him some linens and water to start cleaning the wound, but Chapuys was unfamiliar in the ways of wound dressing. Instead he used his charisma to comfort her, "I am so sorry, Mary, for everything. This is not the way your mother would have wanted things done." He let the other maids carry Mary inside, and surveyed the grotesque seen before him. Some maids were already getting to work by scrubbing the blood off of the cobblestones, though most were tending to the injured ladies.

_Brereton, I hope you are pleased with yourself, _thought Chapuys. _Not only did you not succeed in killing the Concubine, but you severely injured Princess Mary, something that I cannot condone. _Chapuys had made up his mind. Even if it cost him his head, he would have to tell everything to the King, for Mary's sake.

* * *

Brereton had taken off sprinting through the forest after he had seen who his second shot had hit. _Oh God, was it your will for Mary to take the bastard Elizabeth's place?_ Brereton wondered. As soon as Chapuys had given him the latest instructions from the Pope, Brereton had gathered the same rifle he had used on his first assassination attempt, as well as the bullets and powder necessary to carry out the deed. He had commandeered the fastest horse available in the stables to carry him to Hatfield, and had ridden at break neck speed until he reached the country estate. He had even passed the Queen's entourage, but had cloaked himself in black so no one would know his identity. After arriving at Hatfield, Brereton had tied his horse to a tree off the common road, so that he could find a clear vantage point to get the job done. It had been easy enough to find a comfortable position among the trees and shrubbery high enough to clear the walls of Hatfield. Brereton was slightly surprised that his first shot had hit the whore so squarely in the abdomen that he had assumed she would not have been strong enough to survive. However, he had been so preoccupied with his first successful shot on target that he had not noticed the Princess Mary running into his scope. So he was shocked to see her figure crumble to the ground instead of the bastard Elizabeth. But after that shot had gone awry, the scene was just too chaotic for him to try another shot at Elizabeth without risking further damnation from God if he had killed other innocent bystanders.

Brereton sincerely hoped it had somehow been God's will for him to have hit Mary instead of Elizabeth, because otherwise he would find no friends at Court any longer. He had immediately headed back to his horse, realizing that word would soon arrive at Court that someone had shot at members of the royal family, and he wanted to be soundly accounted for so that they would not suspect him. Or even if they did, he wanted to see the King's face when he realized how much God was punishing him for breaking with the Catholic Church. However, Brereton doubted they would pin this attack on him without any proof. He was an innocent in the people of England's eyes, and they would be wary to accuse him of such high treason so soon after his release. He would have to dump the rifle, bullets, and powder on the way back to the palace, so as not carry the murder weapon with him on his arrival. That would just be _too_ glaringly obvious, even for these English heretics.

As Brereton continued on his fast paced ride back to the palace, he heard the even faster hoof beats of a single traveler behind him. Not wanting to show his face, Brereton kept his head bowed and hood fastened snugly over his head. He was soon overtaken by a chocolate brown stallion ridden by none other than Sir Anthony Knivert. _This must be the messenger, _thought Brereton. _I better hurry then._ If the messenger was now ahead of him, Brereton needed to hurry to tidy himself up and look as though he had never left the palace before the spoiled and short tempered English King found out what had happened.

* * *

The meeting was wrapping up with the sunlight, and Henry let out a tired sigh as his advisors packed their things and made their leave. _This is what makes a ruler truly old, _thought Henry. As he surveyed the room, he noticed Charles hanging back, looking out the window distractedly. As the last of the Privy Council members filed out of the room, Henry beckoned to Charles to take a seat next to him. Signaling a servant for wine, he turned his attention to his preoccupied friend.

"Charles, you seem distracted," Henry pointed out bluntly as he sipped from his goblet.

"Yes, Your Majesty, you see-" he was interrupted by Henry.

"You may do away with the formalities, Charles; it is only us two in here," insisted Henry.

"Alright, Henry," emphasized Charles. "My wife and I have separated." Charles knew that he was going to have to divulge more information than that, but he had not yet decided on what he was going to say, which is why he was distracted. If he told Henry the truth, then he would be condemning his own wife for treason. Yet, that is exactly what caused them to separate, wasn't it?

"You know that you are going to have to give me an explanation for this Charles," said Henry knowingly. Henry suspected that his womanizing friend had finally made it to the end of his wife's patience, and that this was the only way he could think of solving things. Yet he was giving Charles a chance to prove him wrong.

"Catherine, she—when I got home, she was waiting, she transformed into this viper!" was all Charles managed to get out of his jumbled brain. Was he going to send her to her death? Or was he going to lie to his sovereign and best friend? His wife or his country? Charles knew the obvious choice. He gathered himself again.

"My wife has committed treason." Charles stated plainly. Henry's eyes grew wide. "She was angry at me for saving the Queen, even though she too knew her to be innocent. Even worse, she wished death upon the Princess Elizabeth."

Henry sat silent for a few moments. At first, he was annoyed. Yet _another_ person who knew that Anne was innocent before him! How could he have been so blind? No wonder Anne was so angry at him! He would have been too had they switched roles. Then he became shocked as he realized the enormity of these actions. Charles's wife, the Duchess of Suffolk, had openly committed treason against his wife and his daughter. Apparently she was unashamed of it too, or else Charles wouldn't be so eager for a separation and possible divorce. Treason, in Henry's mind, was only punishable by death, and he would not make an exception for ward turned Duchess, not even for his friend.

"You know what I have to do about this, don't you Charles?" Henry asked.

"Of course. But Henry, could you please at least make the trial fast and her suffering as little as possible? Though she does now disgust me and I do not agree with her viewpoints, I cannot bear to see her burned at the stake," begged Charles.

"Alright, she will be beheaded. And you will please convey the warrant of her arrest to my interim Lord Chancellor," ordered Henry.

Charles nodded and made his way for the door. He had not yet wrapped his mind around the fact that he had just condemned his wife. His own family member. But before he could think about that topic any more, the door burst open, narrowly missing Charles. In the doorframe stood the panting form of his other good friend, Anthony Knivert. However, he did not say a word or even acknowledge Charles's presence, only slightly irking the young duke. From the look in Henry's eyes, he was expecting his friend either.

"Anthony, what are you doing here unannounced?" asked Henry, with sincere confusion. "And where is Anne?"

"Your Majesty, I'm sorry for bursting in here like this, but the Queen has been shot," Henry burst up from his reclining position in his seat. "as has your daughter the Lady Mary."

"And?" Henry asked with ferocious undertones.

"Her Majesty is alive, but just hanging on. She was unconscious when I left to inform you. The Lady Mary is also alive, though it looked like she was also seriously hurt," informed Anthony.

Henry looked at Charles. "Your Grace," Henry was all back to business, "send Dr. Linacre to Hatfield straightaway! I don't care if it's nearing nightfall; my family needs the best medical attention!"

Charles nodded grimly as he made his way out of the Privy Council chambers. Henry turned his attention back to Anthony.

"Who is responsible for this heinous act?" he roared.

Anthony cringed away. He knew that Henry was not going to take this news calmly. "We have not yet captured the perpetrator, Your Majesty." Anthony replied.

"Get an investigative team assembled right away! Have it headed by the Earl of Wiltshire. No one is to leave Hatfield, do you understand? I am heading there straight away." Henry announced, leaving Anthony to catch up to him from behind. He barely caught the words that Henry was mumbling to himself as he rushed down the corridors of the palace.

"Dear God, not again."

* * *

It was just past midnight when Henry arrived at Hatfield House. He wasted no time for proper introductions, and burst through the front doors. After barking at some maids for directions to Anne's room, he ran into a sobbing Elizabeth and a gently stern Lady Bryan.

"Papa!" tearfully exclaimed Elizabeth as she recognized him in the dark.

"Elizabeth! My darling, what are you doing up at this late hour?" asked Henry. As Lady Bryan prepared to explain, Elizabeth burst into tears again.

"Someone almost killed Mama and Mary!"she sobbed. "And I keep seeing it over and over again when I close my eyes!"

Henry nodded understandingly. So Elizabeth was having nightmares. That was perfectly understandable, but he would have to get the details from Lady Bryan, and he looked pointedly at her so she knew that.

"Elizabeth, don't you worry, I'll make sure that no one hurts Mama again," he knelt down and hugged his daughter. But Elizabeth pulled away.

"No you won't!" she yelled at him, causing Henry to stumble back surprised.

"Your Highness!" scolded Lady Bryan. Henry waved to her to let him handle it.

"Why wouldn't I, darling?" asked Henry. He surely didn't know.

"Because, last time Mama was hurt, you didn't help her. You even hurt her too!" screamed Elizabeth, her overtiredness showing.

Henry realized that she must have been referring to the last time she had seen her mother, when she was begging him to allow her to have a second chance. He had coldly refused, and Elizabeth had been there the entire time to watch.

"That was a misunderstanding, Elizabeth, and I promise that it will never happen again." Henry assured her.

Elizabeth gave him what Henry perceived as a skeptical nod, before Lady Bryan scooped her up and put her to bed. When she came back, Henry was still waiting for an explanation of the day's events.

"Your Majesty, this morning Princess Elizabeth and I, along with some attendants, were standing in the courtyard waiting to receive Her Majesty. When the Queen disembarked from her carriage, she ran over and hugged the Princess in the middle of the courtyard. We thought it best to give them some space. When they had separated and started walking towards us, a shot rang out and the Queen collapsed on the ground. It appeared some of her blood spattered on the Princess. Then, the Lady Mary came running out into the courtyard, closely followed by His Excellency Chapuys. Seeing what had happened, the Lady Mary ran to Her Highness, but was shot by the bullet meant for her," Lady Bryan explained.

Henry nodded. He wordlessly continued to the room he knew was holding his wife. He silently crept in, seeing Dr. Linacre changing the dressings on her wound. He leaned in closer to see, and gasped aloud, causing Anne to stir. Dr. Linacre glared at his sovereign, but continued to redress the wound. Henry remained staring at his injured wife. How she had managed to survive such a shot was beyond his knowledge, but Henry thanked God she was still alive. Her face looked so peaceful and angelic, though her skin was pale and strands of hair were plastered to her face. It wasn't until then he noticed the smell of sweat and blood lingering in the air. Henry shook his head. The ordeals his wife had gone through…

Henry waited until Dr. Linacre finished before drawing him outside the room. "Well?" he asked.

"Your Majesty, Her Majesty must have been blessed today, for most other women would have died from a gunshot wound like that. She has not yet woken up, but she has not developed any infection in the wound or a fever. I hope that she will make a full recovery eventually, though she lost a lot of blood." Henry nodded, and almost moved to leave when Dr. Linacre continued. "As for the Lady Mary, she will also come to soon, though I can't be for certain about the state of her shoulder. The bone was completely shattered, and all I can do for now is ease the pain and brace it for her. All that is left is to pray to God for their recovery." Henry simply nodded, signaling for Dr. Linacre to leave him.

As Henry stood alone outside his wife's door, guilt overtook him. Had he just about forgotten that his other daughter, though he did not acknowledge her as of yet because of her refusal to sign the Oath of Succession, had been injured in the same attack on his wife? Henry's own heartlessness startled him. Sure, he was not going to allow her any privileges one would normally get for being the daughter of a King, but was he really so callous as to forget her very existence while she was on the brink of death? Even now he was unsure if he should visit her room to see how she was faring, or if he should just leave her alone since she had not signed the Oath. An even colder more calculating side of him thought about using this moment to get her to sign the Oath, but he immediately thrust that thought away. He would ask Anne for advice once she woke up, since she was going to wake up tomorrow, Henry was sure of it. It wasn't that he couldn't make a decision about his own family, it was just that he didn't trust himself to make the right one.

While Henry was lost in thought, the sound of slow, heavy footsteps shook him from his mind. Gradually out of the darkness emerged the figure of Eustace Chapuys. As he got closer to Henry, he noticed how his shoulders slumped and feet dragged. He looked extremely tired. He was about to leave to give the ambassador some space, when he heard his tired voice call him.

"Your Excellency," acknowledged Henry.

"Your Majesty," returned Chapuys, as he bowed. "Your Majesty, I have not been entirely honest with you…"

* * *

**A/N: And I think you guys will get the rest! No need for a long explanation of events that you guys have already seen play out. I hope that resolved the suspense that I left last chapter. Anne will hopefully now begin to see the brighter things in life, Charles will become a bachelor again as soon as his wife is beheaded, Elizabeth will hopefully recover from witnessing the near death of her mother and sister, and most importantly we will see how Henry will deal with Chapuys… Thank you all for the reviews which motivate me to write more! School is starting up for me again tomorrow, so I have no idea when the next chapter will be up. However, I knew I couldn't leave you guys hanging too long, so I spent the last day of my break writing this for you guys! You should feel so special! I now you can make me feel special with reviews! Good, bad, in-between, I'm all ears! **


	10. Fathers and Daughters

**Disclaimer: **It is completely unfeasible for me to own The Tudors or historical figures, and I do not claim them as mine.

**A/N:** Thanks again to all of my awesometastical reviewers!

* * *

**Chapter 10: Fathers and Daughters**

Henry stood slightly overwhelmed, partly due to his rapid journey to Hatfield, his high adrenaline levels, and the late hour of the night, but mostly due to the horrendous crimes that the Imperial Ambassador Eustace Chapuys was openly confessing to him outside of his injured wife's bedchamber. He was filled with a mixture of conflicting emotions. The largest one was shock that such a high ranking man like Chapuys was involved in a plot to kill everyone in the way of a Catholic England, be it women or children. Part of Henry wasn't surprised that the Catholic Church had stooped to such low strategies like hiring insane courtiers to assassinate royalty in the name of God. He knew that the Church had its claws dug deep into most every other major monarchy in Europe, and that its influence was obviously negatively directed towards the renegade English monarchs. He really should have known that the ambassador from such a pious nation like Spain would be closely involved with them, but he had simply ignored it. Henry was also angry at Chapuys for conveying the orders of such a heinous crime, even though he knew it was wrong, that would have resulted in the death of two women he held dearest in his heart, Anne and Elizabeth, and that another that _should_ have been near to his heart, Mary, was also wounded in the debacle. Another feeling, though Henry could not consciously identify it, was jealousy. This ambassador, no matter how treacherous, was closer to Mary than he was. He was so close that he felt the need to tell her that murder was being committed almost blatantly under her name, and that she trusted him enough to know that her family members were in danger. Henry should have been the one that Mary could confide in and in return receive news, but instead he had coldly shoved her away as soon as he was ready to do the same to her mother.

However, the greatest emotion that Henry was feeling towards the Spaniard in front of him was pure awe. The fact that Chapuys had owned up to his part in the plot against the Queen and Princess directly to Henry as soon as he could have after the attack, was incredibly brave and bold, something that Henry always respected in a person. Had their roles been reversed, Henry wasn't sure he would admit to something knowing full well that he could be put to death for it. Chapuys would probably never been suspected or punished for such a crime, as ambassadors generally received diplomatic immunity from most crimes. He could have hidden behind his diplomatic cape and let the storm wash over until it was safe to come out again, instead of admitting to said crimes and effectively burning his defensive cape. The figure Henry was now warily gazing at was clearly of a noble breed, and his actions showed for it. However, no matter how much Henry respected the bravery of Chapuys, he could not go unpunished for causing severe injury to his wife and daughter, not to mention the possible psychological trauma Elizabeth would be experiencing.

"Your Excellency, you do know what this means for you, don't you?" Henry asked tiredly.

"Your Majesty can and probably will charge me with high treason, and consequently execute me," answered Chapuys with an eerie coolness. "However, to avoid the usual interrogations after my arrest, I will tell you what you seek most right now," Chapuys leaned closer to the English King. "I will tell you the person who shot at the Queen and Princess, at no benefit to myself."

Henry raised his eyebrows. Was this man insane? He was giving away all of his bargaining chips to save his life, and he knew it. "And who is this despicable man you speak of?" he asked cautiously.

"You know him already from the last investigation that almost cost the Queen her life. William Brereton, Your Majesty," revealed Chapuys with almost frightening indifference.

Henry scowled. Brereton. He knew that he should have dismissed that sick man from his household the minute he was released from the Tower. He glanced back at Chapuys. Normally he would not have thought twice before summoning some guards and arresting him for high treason. Yet, he had saved Wiltshire and his men a great deal of time, labor, and controversy by revealing who had shot Anne and Mary. Henry immediately dismissed the idea that Chapuys could be lying, the way he had been so forthright tonight could only mean that his conscience was eating him alive.

"Your Excellency, I will admit, you find me in a difficult position. On one hand, protocol would dictate that I immediately have you arrested for high treason. Yet, the information and haste of your confession make me think otherwise. You will return to Whitehall tomorrow morning, and remain under house arrest in your apartments at the palace until further notice. Do you understand?" commanded Henry.

Chapuys hesitated for a split second. He did not want to leave Princess Mary's side at her time of need, but at the same time he realized that this was probably the closest thing to amnesty he was going to receive from such a volatile person like the King.

"Yes, Your Majesty," he bowed meekly, and left Henry to ponder what he was going to have to deal with in the morning.

* * *

Anthony, Charles, Boleyn, Norfolk, and George all arrived the following morning along with the rest of the investigative team. Naturally, they were all relieved that their work had been done for them and that the rest of the realm would be on the lookout for William Brereton. However, the members of the Boleyn family, and Norfolk, were dismayed that they were forbidden from seeing Anne, as she was still not in a fully stable condition. Anthony was just glad that she was still alive, as the chaos he witnessed yesterday did not look promising. Charles was also relieved that Anne was still alive. After investing all of his time and energy on her case the past few days, he had grown to appreciate the brave woman he had freed. His own wife had distanced herself from him because of it. Had Anne perished yesterday, all his trouble would have been in vain, and Charles would be in a pit of emotional despair.

After being rejected from Anne's chambers, Boleyn and Norfolk summoned a family meeting in one of Hatfield's spare guest chambers. However, since Anne was incapacitated and Mary still disowned from the family, that left only George to accompany them to what he knew was another session of scheming. As he closed the door behind him, Norfolk and Boleyn were already in a deep conversation.

"I knew that that slippery Spanish Ambassador was up to no good!" cried Boleyn in triumph.

"Yes, yes, that is all good, Boleyn," chided Norfolk impatiently, "but we still have the matter about Anne to think about."

George shifted uncomfortably by the door. Of course it was going to get into how they could use his poor sister again. Hadn't she been through enough near death experiences to make her own choices without the influence of her family? George thought so. However, George knew that they would likely ignore his opinions, and kept silent for the time being.

"Yes, I heard she got shot in the stomach. I hope that doesn't affect her ability to carry sons. God knows how much trouble she's been having with that already," sighed Boleyn, clearly uncaring about Anne's actual life.

To everyone's surprise, Norfolk was the one getting irritable about his brother-in-law's attitude. "No, you greedy pig, I meant about her actual health! If she was going to even get out of this recovered! Who knows what her injury will cause, mentally and physically! But all you can care about is how fertile your daughter is! It won't matter how fertile she is if she's dead!" shouted Norfolk.

"But, Uncle, the doctor said that there appears to be no complications as of yet," piped in George. He recognized now that his uncle's side was the one to be on. His father may be the father of the Queen of England, but he was not good at hiding his ulterior motives, a craft which his uncle was a master of from many years at Court.

"Yes, that is true, George, but health is a fragile thing. One minute you can be as healthy as a horse, and the next we could be dying of something like the Sweat," reminded Norfolk.

"Now wait just a minute!" roared Boleyn in outrage. "Anne is my daughter and I will do with her what I see fit! Her duty, first and foremost, is to her family, and that means her father! If she cannot produce an heir, then how will that make me look? I'll never become a duke if that lazy slut cannot do things right for once!" Boleyn howled, as his face flushed from a lack of oxygen.

Norfolk and George glanced at each other. Had Boleyn lost his wits while being imprisoned in the Tower for a couple weeks? It wasn't like he had been threatened with death like his son and daughter.

"You two just do not get it! I have to get that into her head now, and I don't need your or the doctor's permission to do it. My whole reputation hangs in the balance!" he hissed as he pushed his way out the door.

"Did he just say he was…?" trailed off a shocked George.

Snapping back to his senses, Norfolk bolted out of the room to stop his brother-in-law from making one of the worst decisions of his life.

* * *

Henry, Charles, and Anthony were talking in the sitting room of Henry's chambers at Hatfield. Unlike the layout of Whitehall, the King and Queen's apartments were across the hall from each other at Hatfield, making it easy for Henry to check the status of Anne's health from Doctor Linacre. Charles and Anthony were trying to take Henry's mind off of his ailing wife, as they knew that Henry did not cope well with stress.

"So, Charles," Anthony said jokingly, "who do you have your eye set on for your next wife?"

Charles shifted in his seat uneasily. "I actually do not have anyone in mind. I wasn't expecting to separate from my wife, so I did not have anyone _planned_."

Henry and Anthony laughed heartily. "Don't you worry Charles, I'm sure you'll meet some girl soon enough. You still have plenty of time, and you've got Edward as your heir anyway," assured Henry. "And if you need help, I'm sure I can arrange something for you if you want."

"Thank you, Your Majesty, but I believe in true love. I thought I had it twice before with my previous two wives," said Charles, carefully avoiding naming Henry's late sister, "and I shall begin my quest for it soon enough!"

All three men laughed at Charles idealism. Having already been through two wives, what made him think he would find true love with the third?

"I believe in you, Charles," said Henry, as he patted his good friend on the back. "Look at Anne and I. After everything we've been through, we still love each other."

Anthony raised his eyebrows. "Oh, so she forgave you and declared her love for you now?"

"Well, she said that she would try to be more of a responsible Queen, and that she wanted our marriage to change with that. So I assumed that she still loves me. After all, she didn't yell at me when I told her I was willing to mend our relationship!" he confided in his two closest friends.

Before either of them could reply, the trio heard a commotion coming from Anne's chambers. All three of them started to their feet, obviously surprised.

"Anne is in no condition to walk, let alone cause such a ruckus," Henry said, more to himself than his friends.

And with that, they ran out to see what was happening.

* * *

Before they could enter Anne's chambers, however, they almost collided with Norfolk and George. Henry quickly waved them off as the two family members gave him hasty bows.

"Your Grace," said Henry, turning to Norfolk, "what is going on here?"

"Well, Your Majesty," began Norfolk, trying to figure out the best way to explain that his brother-in-law, the King's own father-in-law, was most likely going to bring bodily harm upon Anne. However, before he could continue they heard muffled shouting from outside the door. They all leaned closer in an attempt to hear what was being said.

"My lord," they heard Doctor Linacre beg, "Her Majesty cannot be disturbed now! She has not woken since her attack, and it would be foolhardy now to rouse her from her healing sleep!"

The group outside the door heard a great deal of shuffling before a resounding slap.

"You will learn your place as a _servant_, Linacre," hissed Boleyn. "Anne is my daughter, and I will do what I want with her! Now you will stand out of my way."

Henry was so shocked that the father of his wife could be so heartless, that he was too stunned to take action.

"Anne, you lazy whore, wake up!" ordered Boleyn. They could hear him rattling her from her sleep.

"Father, what are you doing?"asked a groggy Anne.

"You need to get off of your haunches and win back the King. You are inhibiting my bid for what is rightfully mine!" growled Boleyn.

"What?" asked Anne. She was clearly disoriented.

"Did that gunshot wound also inflict damage to your head?" adamantly scolded Boleyn. They could hear them manhandling her again.

"My Lord!" broke in a clearly distressed Dr. Linacre. "You must stop this madness at once! You are reopening the Queen's wound!"

"I told you to mind your own business!" yelled Boleyn.

Henry, finally shaken from his paralysis, then burst through the door. The scene before him resembled what he had heard outside. Anne was hanging limply in the night gown he had seen her in the night before, her father had a fistful of the fabric clenched in his hand. A grotesque crimson rose was blossoming on Anne's stomach, the spot where Henry knew her wound was. Dr. Linacre was right, her wound was reopening. The left side of Anne's face was also an unnatural pink compared with her etiolated pallor, the sure sign of a hard smack to the face. Her father was still extremely red in the face, almost matching the color of the blood he had spilled. The arm not grasping Anne was holding back a struggling Dr. Linacre, who was doing his best to protect his royal charge. However, the scene froze when Henry and the rest of the men outside of the door poured in.

"Unhand my wife, my lord," ordered a scarily subdued Henry. Boleyn carelessly dropped Anne back amongst the linens of the bed, muffle her spasmodic and pain laced sobs. Without needing direction, Dr. Linacre quickly moved to patch up his Queen.

A curt nod from Henry led to Charles and Anthony roughly seizing Boleyn and restraining him in a nearby room for interrogation. Norfolk and George stood uneasily by the bedside, but out of the way of the scrambling royal physician.

Henry rushed to the other side of the bed, grasping one of Anne's pale hands, and brought it softly to his lips.

"I am so sorry, sweetheart," murmured Henry, forgetting everybody else in the room. "Why didn't you tell me your father was like that?" Henry was not actually expecting an answer from her, but her head turned towards him and she smiled faintly.

"Because, Henry, no matter what horrors my father has put me through, he is still my father, and though I do not always want to, I will always love him." Anne whispered in a pain-induced delirium.

Henry nodded as she tried to escape back into a peaceful slumber. He moved back and allowed Dr. Linacre to do his work, while he mulled over what Anne had said. Could Mary still love him after all that he did (or really did not do) to her? Henry had initially planned to consult Anne about this today if she had woken up, but her rather spontaneous and unknowingly helpful advice was all that he needed.

Henry turned to see Norfolk and George still staring intently at Anne's now sleeping figure. "You two," he whispered so as not to rouse Anne, "talk with me outside, now."

"To be totally honest, Your Grace, I have no real desire to even speak to the Earl of Wiltshire right now." Henry told Norfolk outside of Anne's room. "Everything he says is probably going to be a lie to save his own skin, judging by his actions earlier. That is why I am giving you and Lord Rochford the chance to explain everything, because right now you two are guilty by association."

"Your Majesty, the Earl of Wiltshire's crimes did not involve us. He was obsessed that the Queen was infertile and wouldn't be able to provide Your Majesty with a son, thus making it impossible to become a duke. However, Lord Rochford and I do not agree with these ideas, which was why we ran into you outside the Queen's bedchamber," explained Norfolk.

"My father was just trying to secure the highest rank possible for himself, no matter who he harmed to get it," admitted George morosely. "We tried to stop him, but he was crazed for power that he did not have."

Henry nodded. In truth, he did not really think that Norfolk and Rochford were involved in his father-in-law's slanderous behavior, but he wanted to see their reactions. The fact that they did not attempt to protect Boleyn, but at the same time were not trying to gain more power or blame him for more things than he was guilty of, intrigued him.

"You are dismissed," Henry announced when he saw Dr. Linacre approaching. The other two men bowed and departed, probably wondering what they were going to do now.

"Doctor," said Henry, eagerly awaiting news about Anne.

"Thankfully, Her Majesty just reopened her wound a little. She'll still be able to make a full recovery in my professional opinion," replied the physician with relief.

"Thank you," said Henry, almost motioning to him for dismissal when he remembered one of the reasons Boleyn had gone to his wife's room in the first place. "Wait," he called to Dr. Linacre, as he made his way to pack up his equipment. "Did the Queen's injury affect her fertility?"

The doctor smiled. "Of course not, Your Majesty! The Queen was hit in the stomach, not the womb. She will still be able to give you a Prince of Wales," he assured his sovereign.

Henry gave a sigh of relief and let his royal physician leave. As he turned down the hallway, he braced himself to see his cast away first daughter. He half hoped that she would be asleep so he would have more time to prepare himself without neglecting her more than he already had. However, when he opened the door to her chamber, he found that she was laying awake in her bed, staring out the window. He noticed her entire left arm was hidden a white linen sling.

Henry cleared his throat. "Mary," he said uncertainly.

His daughter turned around, surprise and delight shone in her eyes. Then, as soon as it had come, it disappeared under a colder and guarded expression. "Your Majesty," she said as she bowed her head, since she was unable to curtsey in her current state.

"No, Mary, Papa," Henry corrected as he moved towards his daughter's bedside. "I know that I haven't seen you in years, but I am here for you now," he said, hoping she would drop her cold façade.

Unfortunately for Henry, it didn't. "Well, 'Papa,' now that you are here, after over 4 years of not seeing you, what could you possibly want from me?" she asked with disdain.

"You know perfectly well why I'm here," snapped back Henry, quickly losing his temper.

"Because that concubine you call your wife was shot? You only came here to see if she was okay, not because you were concerned how your eldest daughter was!" cried back Mary. Henry flinched. She was right, he _had_ forgotten about her until Dr. Linacre had reminded him. What could he say? 'Yes, I forgot about you, sorry?' So Henry stayed silent.

"I knew it. I knew that you do not care about me," bitterly murmured Mary, more to herself than to her royal father.

"Mary," began Henry, carefully placing his hand on her uninjured shoulder. "I do care about you, I-" Mary cut him off.

"If you cared about me, you wouldn't have exiled my mother and left her to waste away. If you cared about me, you would have visited me. If you cared about me, you wouldn't have not only bastardized me, but force me into serving my younger half-sister!" she ranted.

"Mary, Mary, I do care about you!" insisted Henry. "I may not be good at showing it, and I do have my own flaws too. You insist on claiming you are a Princess, even though my marriage to your mother has been annulled. For my reputation, I cannot have you going about Court saying you are a Princess when you are not! I need you to sign the Oath of Succession before I can fully show my affection."

"So it's back to that oath," echoed Mary. Henry flinched.

"I didn't mean to bring that up now," he tried to apologize. "But your being at Hatfield is for your own safety too! Do you know how many of my enemies would have tried to use you against me to get the crown for themselves?"

Mary had actually thought about that, and did agree that she would have rather not been used by other hotheaded men. It was bad enough that her father was egotistical, but she did not know how many men with distorted visions of grandeur she could stand. "Yes," conceded Mary, "but that does not mean that leaving me here in basically exile was the right thing to do!"

"Yes, I know that now," admitted Henry. "And judging by your actions to save Elizabeth yesterday, you have proven to me that you do not deserve to live like this," Henry motioned to the small and relatively meager room that Mary inhabited. "Once you are healthy enough to travel, I will allow you a small household of your own, in Wales if you like. Or, if you agree, to signing the Oath, I will give you the household in Wales and you may travel to Court once you are completely recovered," offered Henry.

Mary was nonetheless a little bit shocked. She had not been expecting her father to actually allow her a small household. She thought he would be his normal cruel self and send her straight back to her duties serving Elizabeth whenever she could. So though she was overjoyed at the thought of being able to leave Hatfield, Mary was not sure if she could sign the Oath. After all of her obstinance against the Oath, could she turn her back on her religion and her mother just so she could be happy? She remembered what Chapuys had told her earlier. If she signed the Oath under duress, then she would not really be denouncing her faith. But… she did not want to blame a piece of paper for her actions. She knew that her mother would want her to be happy, and she was not getting any younger.

"Alright, Papa, I will sign the Oath on one condition," bargained Mary.

"And what condition would that be, Mary?" asked Henry skeptically. She really wasn't in a position to be making demands.

"Find me a husband, and I will agree to sign the Oath."

"Alright, Mary. I do agree that you are indeed of marrying age, and I have neglected to do you the fatherly responsibility of looking for a proper husband for you." Henry agreed. Carefully kissing her on the cheek, he left the room. He had not exactly reconciled with her, but it was the best he was going to get today.

* * *

**A/N:** Okay, so another long chapter from me! Thomas Boleyn may seem a little OOC, but really, that guy was a total selfish jerk. I hope Mary doesn't seem too soft and eager to please Henry, because she isn't. Anne will finally make a fully conscious reappearance in the next chapter was well! I have had some suggestions about Mary and Charles being together, and since I already have who I want him to be with in my mind, I can neither confirm or deny this. We will also find out Chapuys's fate next chapter! I warn you though, I have had another plot bunny for a different fandom pop into my mind, so I don't know when the next chapter of this story will come out. Don't worry, I'm not abandoning this, just widening my horizons!


	11. Awakenings

**Disclaimer:** When I own something, I'll tell you guys ;)

**A/N:** Okay, so life has caught up with me again, which is why this chapter has taken so long to write. But I didn't mean to take almost a whole month to update again! Ahhh, so sorry! Also, I was having trouble deciding the pairings concerning Mary and Charles. And no, I will not tell you guys. A big thanks to Pandora of Ithilien for her advice! I would also like to dedicate this chapter to Stephane of the International School of Stavanger, who passed away after suffering a heart attack while playing rugby at the NECIS girls soccer/boys rugby tournament this 20th of May, may he rest in peace.

* * *

**Chapter 11: Awakenings**

Henry sat alone at Anne's bedside, watching the light rise and fall of her delicate chest as she continued in her healing slumber. It was midmorning and the sun was peeping through the drawn curtains of Anne's chamber. Four days had passed since the Boleyn fiasco and the house arrest of the Spanish Ambassador, and Henry was growing restless. He had already determined that he would stay at Hatfield at least until Anne awoke, and hopefully until she was ready to travel back to Whitehall with him. However, he was also aware that he could not let the country fall into turmoil without proper guidance for such an extended period of time with no one officially in charge at the palace. To make matters worse, Thomas Boleyn was not taking his captivity well, constantly yelling at the walls and tossing now broken furniture at anything and everything in sight. It seemed to everyone, even Dr. Linacre, that Boleyn had finally lost it. His lust for power and his willingness to do whatever it took seemed to overwhelm all of his other senses, including the rational thought to be quiet when the King demanded. The only way to heal everyone of Boleyn's ruckus was for Dr. Linacre to keep Boleyn sedated with a constant sleeping draught, so potent that anyone who inhaled its fumes wanted to faint.

Henry toyed with a lock of Anne's hair, slowly curling her silky raven strands around his finger. He had spent every night at the chapel in Hatfield, praying for the speedy recovery of his wife and daughter. Mary had immediately brightened when he had agreed to find her a husband, and had since recovered as fast as could be expected with a broken shoulder. However, she still kept mostly to her room since the sling and nature of her injury prevented her from being seen in public while still keeping her dignity. A husband for his daughter. Henry really needed Anne to help and advise him in this new and daunting task. Who was even worthy marrying a daughter of Henry's blood? All of the other marriages that he had attempted to arrange for his daughters, and especially Mary, had fallen through. And who was available that he could trust? Immediately Henry's thoughts flickered to Charles. He had just lost his wife, and was already looking to take another. And Charles was as loyal a friend that Henry had, if not in all the land. However, Charles had that womanizing, horrible marital relationship kind of reputation, and he wasn't sure if even his bastard daughter would be able to right him of it. Mary was such an exquisite creature that he wasn't even sure anyone would be up to her standards.

Speaking of exquisite creatures, Henry's focus was once again refocused to Anne's sleeping figure. Her face looked so creamy and soft to the touch, her hair the finest strands of silk. Had he not known that there were bandages tightly wound around her stomach, Henry would have thought her in the finest health. Lost in the image of his wife, Henry was roused by a knock at the door. Henry turned and grimaced. Ever since the confinement of his brother-in-law, Norfolk seemed to be getting more and more vocal about Henry or someone else to be sent to the palace in order to assume order. This was probably another try. Sure enough, it was the overly eager form of Norfolk and the less sure looking Charles standing behind him.

"Your Majesty, I-," started Norfolk, before Henry cut him off.

"Outside, Your Graces," quietly ordered the exasperated King.

As they walked down the hallway, Henry began to speak in a more normal volume. "I know that you believe that I or someone else of high importance should return to Court and show the world that England has not fallen apart at the injury of members of the Royal Family." Norfolk opened his mouth to make him seem less controlling or all knowing, but Henry ignored him. "I also know that you believe that you are up to this task." Norfolk reddened slightly.

"Your Majesty, I know that you will assign whoever you think is most capable for the job."

"Well, I do commend you on your persistence," agreed Henry. Before Norfolk could thank him, Henry spoke again. "Although, I cannot help but think that you are a little too persistent. So, I will allow you to return to Court and run things in my absence as interim Lord Chancellor. However, I will also be sending the Duke of Suffolk back with you in order to supervise you. If he objects to anything, you must follow his guidance," Henry turned to Charles. "And you, Charles, will stay at Court and make preparation to combat the uprisings in the North until I return."

Both dukes nodded and made way to leave. As the two noblemen left, an excited Dr. Linacre came hobbling down the hallway.

"Your Majesty!" wheezed the elderly royal physician. "The Queen has awakened!"

* * *

To be honest, Anne was a little disappointed that no one was at her bedside when she finally woke up. All that was there to greet her was a darkened room and clean linens. As she tried to sit up, Anne gasped in pain, her hands flying to the left side of her stomach. She carefully outlined the small wound over the bandages, as the life-threatening event flashed back before her eyes. Anne shuddered. Not once in her life had she ever wondered what it felt like to be shot, and after that hellacious searing pain that had rippled through her body days before, she was bewildered that she was still alive. Who had shot her? The last thing that Anne recalled was lying on the ground in fast pooling blood, Elizabeth screaming… Anne did not know if Elizabeth was alright, making the necessity of sitting up all the more urgent. She pushed as hard as she could with her arms, but to no avail. Anne would just have to try to use those abdominal muscles again. As she released another gasp of pain after another failed attempt, Anne noticed that her door had just rapidly open and closed. Was it an assassin, come back to try and finish her off? She didn't have much time to protect herself if and when he came back. Her eyes frantically scanned the room for anything within her reach that she would use to protect herself. Finally her eyes settled on a candlestick on her nightstand. Anne clenched the makeshift weapon in her clammy hands, waiting on edge for her would-be attacker to return.

After a couple of minutes, she heard a pair of hurried footsteps returning. Anne frowned. There were two attackers? But she only had one candlestick! Oh well, she would just have to improvise. Finally, the door opened, and before seeing the faces of either of the two men, one tall, broad shouldered, and muscled, while the other short and stout, threw her projectile weapon. The stout man howled in pain and clenched his left arm as the other man rushed closer.

"Stay away from me you servant of Satan!" cried Anne.

"Servant of Satan? I know that it was neglectful of me to leave you alone while you were due to wake up at any moment, but I think that is a little harsh," said a melodramatically hurt voice.

"Henry?" asked Anne hesitantly.

He rushed forward and carefully hugged his beloved. "Of course it's me sweetheart," he murmured into her hair.

After they broke their embrace, Anne continued to grasp Henry's arm. "I thought that you and-" Anne remembered that her candlestick had hit a second person, and she carefully craned her neck around Henry to get a glimpse of who it was. "Oh, Dr. Linacre! I am so sorry for hitting you with that candlestick!" exclaimed a now blushing Anne.

Henry also turned around and saw the old doctor clutching his arm in pain at the doorway, an ornate candlestick lying on the floor next to him. "You thought that we were what?" Henry asked, fighting to suppress his laughter.

"I…uh… thought you two were assassins come to finish me off," confessed the embarrassed Anne.

Unable to keep it at bay any longer, Henry started barking in laughter. Anne did not appreciate this reaction, however, and instead of throwing another candlestick, threw a pillow at her husband.

"It's not funny! When I awoke with _no one_ nearby, I tried to sit up. While I was doing so, I saw the door open and close suspiciously! What else was I supposed to think after the last thing I remember is getting shot and my daughter crying!" rebuked Anne.

Henry put his hands on his wife's shoulders. "I am sorry about that, and I guess if you put it that way, your fear does seem slightly justified," acceded Henry. He turned to the still injured doctor. "You may leave us, Doctor." The flustered physician bowed and hobbled out of the doorway to tend to himself.

"Is our daughter okay? She was not shot too, was she? I know that I have many enemies, but that should not put our daughter at risk," asked Anne.

"Calm down, sweetheart," pleaded Henry. "You have only just woken up!"

"But I want to know, Henry! I need to! She is our daughter and-!" Henry put a finger over Anne's lips.

"I was going to tell you, I just meant that you have to keep yourself from getting overexcited, or Dr. Linacre will probably never forgive us!"

"Like he was going to forgive me for throwing a candlestick at him…" mumbled Anne.

"Of course he would forgive you, I would force him otherwise!" exclaimed Henry. "And about Elizabeth, she is fine, and will be most happy to see you are awake. She was very worried. But, ah, Mary was also shot, in the shoulder."

"Oh," Anne had not expected Mary to take casualty, as Anne was sure that the people out to get her were of the mind to put Mary on the throne.

Sensing Anne's confusion, Henry continued. "She was protecting Elizabeth, is what I was led to believe."

"What?" asked Anne, seriously confused. She thought that Mary despised her and her daughter, and that would have had wanted nothing more than to see her die for overthrowing her mother.

Henry sighed. "I better tell you everything that happened since you've been sleeping."

* * *

Charles and Norfolk arrived at the palace without incident. As soon as they had dismounted, Norfolk had rushed off with the proclamation declaring him the new interim Lord Chancellor to immediately usurp his position. Charles, on the other hand, preferred to leisurely stroll through the courtyard to his apartment at the palace, seeing as he would soon have to start the preparations to combat the Pilgrimage of Grace. As he strolled along in the fair weather, a rather distressed blond lady rushed towards him.

On further inspection, Charles discovered that she was a relatively young woman, with locks of gold and succulent red lips. Her eyes seemed to have a naturally seductive glow about them, even in her currently anxious state. She seemed plainly dressed compared to most women who were at Court, but this did nothing to diminish her beauty. She seemed slightly familiar to him, but he could not remember from where. Charles snapped out of his trance when he noticed this heavenly lady was speaking to him.

"—and though I came and presented the letter, no one will tell me anything!" she said, searching Charles frantically for an answer.

"Excuse me, my lady, but could you please repeat what you have said? I did not catch all of it," asked Charles.

The young woman rolled her eyes. "I see that the nobility hasn't changed. Very well, my lord, I shall repeat myself. I received a letter from my brother, telling me that my sister was not well and perhaps needed my attention when she returned to the palace. Can you tell me if she has, or, if not, where I might find her? I thought presenting the letter would at least grant me some information, but no one at the palace seems to know what I'm talking about!"

Charles cleared his throat. "Maybe it would be best to start with introductions, since I cannot help you or your various siblings, if I do not know who you are. I am Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, at your service," said Charles, as he gave a slight bow to the woman.

The blonde beauty blushed, and pulled herself into a deep curtsy. "I am sorry, Your Grace, I did not realize I was speaking to one with such a high rank at Court. I am Lady Mary Boleyn, the sister of the Queen. My brother George, Lord Rochford, sent me a letter telling me that Anne was not well and would probably like to see me?"

Charles stood slack jawed for a few moments. No wonder she seemed familiar! Not only had he encountered her at the Field of the Cloth of Gold, but he had run into her a few times when she was a lady-in-waiting to her sister. Why had she left her sister's service anyway? He had not heard of her getting married a second time. Evidently, she did not remember him either. But if she had not been so memorable now, why was her very gaze causing him to want to melt into his boots?

"Ah, Lady Mary! Were you not a lady-in-waiting to your sister? I was surprised to see you had left her service, as I had not heard of you marrying a second time!" he exclaimed nervously.

"Yes, well, that is a complicated story," mumbled Mary uncomfortably. Why would such a handsome and important man like the Duke of Suffolk want to know that she had been disgraced from her family for marrying out of love? He wouldn't, and she wasn't keen on telling him any time soon. "Could you please just answer my questions?"

"Oh, yes, your questions!" stammered Charles. No woman had ever had this effect on him, not even Margaret! "Queen Anne was shot in the stomach not 5 days ago," Mary gasped, "but she has since been recovering at Hatfield House, where she was visiting the Princess Elizabeth. She will be returning to Court once she has awakened and is safe enough to travel."

"Thank you, Your Grace. Do you think it possible for me to go and visit her at Hatfield?" inquired Mary.

"I think it would be best for you to wait for your sister's return to Court. She is no doubt weak and in need of solitude. Hatfield is a small place, and too many people will make it a most uncomfortable stay. I can arrange a room for you, if it pleases you?" offered Charles. He knew there was an open room near his own apartments.

"Yes, that would be wonderful, thank you!" replied the grateful Mary.

Charles held out his arm in an extremely gentlemanly fashion. "Shall I take you to your room now, my lady?"

Mary giggled. "Just Mary is okay with me, as I don't have any official titles or anything," _not to mention that I am disinherited from my family_, she thought.

"Then you may just call me Charles," insisted Charles.

"Okay 'Charles', let us go to this room you speak of," teased Mary.

Once Mary had latched onto Charles's waiting arm, he didn't want her to let go.

* * *

Back at Hatfield, Anne had finally been propped up in her bed, with Henry at her side. He had explained to her all that had happened, from Chapuys's orders, his regret, Mary's heroics, Brereton's second betrayal, her father's mental breakdown, and Mary's ultimatum.

"So, who do you have in mind for Mary?" asked Anne. She had no objections to finding a husband for Mary, who was well past marrying age now, especially for a member of the Royal Family. However, she did want to know that this person would be loyal, and not try to put Mary or her Catholic ideals on the throne.

"I am not too sure, to be honest," said Henry sheepishly. "I hadn't really been thinking about the marriage arrangement of Mary until she made that bargain with me."

Now it was Anne's turn to feel guilty. She had been pushing desperately for the marriage of Elizabeth to a French prince, never once thinking that her step-daughter was still not married. Though Mary was the daughter of Katherine of Aragon, she was till Anne's step-daughter, and therefore Anne was partly responsible for this oversight as well.

"Well, seeing as she is illegitimate, her marital stock abroad is very poor. I am guessing you shall have to look somewhere among our people to marry her off to," suggested Anne.

"Yes, that was what I was thinking," agreed Henry, once again thankful that his wife had the logical brains of a queen, the brains that Jane Seymour never had, or at least displayed. "I was thinking perhaps a match between Mary and Charles, since he and his wife are soon to be divorced or annulled, I don't know which yet. However, nothing yet is set in stone."

"I guess Charles could work, but isn't he just about your age? Wouldn't it be awkward for your best friend to be sleeping with your daughter?" asked Anne. She knew that if she was in Mary's place, she would never accept that arrangement.

"Age does not matter in marriage, especially in the Tudor family. Remember my late sister Margaret?" reminded Henry.

"And remember how well that turned out?" shot back Anne.

Henry winced. "Okay, that probably was not the best example, but still, age has nothing to do with it. It's not like there are any better bachelors available now anyway," sulked Henry.

"Well, we don't have to rush this," reasoned Anne. Though the relationship between her and Mary was not what it should have been, she certainly did not wish that sort of marriage on anyone.

"Yes, yes," agreed Henry absentmindedly, stroking Anne's hair.

Anne sighed. Henry was not going to admit he was wrong, and she knew it. She just hoped that Henry would realize it before it was too late.

* * *

**A/N:** I really, sincerely, did not mean to take this long to update this story again! And that other project I mentioned has also not been written yet, it's still in the planning stages. Anyway, this chapter was mainly important in setting up some important relationships for later, as well as finally waking Anne up! Thanks for all of your patience, and reviews are welcome! I will try to make the next update come out sooner, but exams are coming up and there are no guarantees!


	12. More than Just an Uprising

**Disclaimer: **I still don't own anything... People must think that us FanFiction authors are such hobos!

**A/N: **Okay, another inexcusable long wait between updates, I know. However, now that I completed a 65km hike through the French countryside and took all of my exams, I am now freer than ever to continue this story! I don't know when I'll decide to end this fic, but I still have some plans for it, so keep an eye out for at least a couple more updates in the near future! Also, for the purposes of this story, Mary only has one daughter, Annie, who is about 6 in this fic. Also note that this fic becomes extremely AU from this point, as I shall make the Pilgrimage of Grace a much larger rebellion, almost like a mini war.

* * *

**Chapter 12: More Than Just an Uprising **

Mary Boleyn was extremely relieved to see her once close sister Anne step out of the grand carriage she had arrived at the palace in, and also satisfied that the King was helping his wife out. She remembered the days when it was she warming Henry's bed, though lacking the social security that Anne now had as his Queen. Mary did not envy Anne, since the security that Anne had was not yet sealed with her lack of a son, but she only wished the best for her sister. She had not been surprised to learn soon after her arrival at Court that her overly ambitious father had finally lost it, and was to be confined in the Tower until further notice. Mary winced at the memory of her father's menacing hands after he had learned that the King no longer wished for her company. George Boleyn dismounted his dark brown mount soon after the royal couple entered the palace, greeting his now much maturer sister. They met in a tight embrace.

"Mary, I'm so glad you got my letter in time. I was worried that you might have changed your address since the last time I had heard from you," said George, as they broke the hug.

"I would have told you if I was moving!" chided Mary. "I can't believe you think me to be that heartless!"

"Well, I wouldn't have blamed you if you wanted to distance yourself from your prying and controlling family," muttered George sheepishly.

"The past is the past, and I have no regrets about my decision to marry William," brushed off Mary. "Besides, I couldn't just sit by myself at home knowing that Anne was injured and needed my help."

"Alone? What about William and Annie?" asked a puzzled George.

"Well, William was stationed somewhere up north, I think near Lincolnshire. And once I heard that Anne was injured, William's sister was happy to watch Annie for a couple of weeks," explained Mary.

"Lincolnshire?" repeated George distantly. "Isn't there some uprising going on up there?"

"Oh yes, the Duke of Suffolk was telling me about it while I was waiting here for you all to return from Hatfield. He left earlier today with a small group of soldiers to meet up with a larger force to quash the rebellion," replied Mary nonchalantly.

Mary and Charles Brandon had spent a lot of time talking and walking together whilst she was waiting for her sister to arrive back at Court. Mary found that she was very lonely, as she was still a social outcast for marrying a man of such low status against her family's will. They were still unsure if she was still out of the Queen's, and therefore the King's, good graces, and therefore tried to keep their distance. Charles noticed this and tried to spend as much of his free time with her as possible. Or at least that's what Mary kept telling herself, since he seemed to talk with her much longer and with more attention than she had seen him speaking with anyone else, especially for a woman. During their conversations she learned that he had recently annulled his marriage to his wife, whom he had sheepishly revealed had plotted against the Queen, and that he had personally looked through the interviews and evidence of Anne's trial, proving her innocent. Mary had gained a large respect for Charles. She had originally thought that he was another rich, snobby, stuck up, young noble, but he turned out to actually have a brain, and a sense of humor to boot! Charles had grown to be her only friend at Court in her sister's absence, and she was relieved that he was only leaving the day her sister and her entourage would be arriving.

"Erm, Mary? Shouldn't you be worried about William? He is stationed in a hostile post!" George asked worriedly.

"Well, as the wife of a soldier, you learn that you can't work yourself over every little squabble William gets in. And also, the Duke told me that this little uprising should be easily dealt with, and that he doubted that there were going to be any actual casualties," said Mary.

"I hope so Mary, I hope so," agreed George, as they entered the palace together.

* * *

Though Anne had been well enough to make the journey from Hatfield back to the palace, it did not keep most everyone close to her from confining her to her bedchamber. Even the normally pushy Norfolk insisted on her staying in her bed for at least another week. Anne, though understanding their good intentions, was flustered that she was being treated like a glass feather. George wouldn't even stand up for her. To make things even more humiliating, Henry decided to gather the entire Court to announce her continual bed rest, causing almost every ambitious courtier to come and pay respects to her at her apartments. When finally the courtier paid their get well wishes and was ushered out the door, Anne flew back on her pillows in exhaustion.

"Thank God that they are all finally gone!" exhaled Anne as she buried her face in her pillows.

The rest of Anne's ladies continued to scramble around her chambers, tidying everything up from all of the visitors and getting ready for the evening meal. During this flurry of activity, Mary slipped into the room unnoticed.

"Then I guess you shan't want me in here then," sarcastically announced Mary. All of the ladies snapped to attention in the room, waiting for their mistress's response. They all knew who Mary was, though no one was sure if she was still disliked by the Queen. They were either ready to throw out or welcome the woman, depending on their Queen's response.

Anne quickly flipped onto her back to see the speaker's face, making sure it was indeed Mary. Realizing after that such quick, jerky movements did not sit well with her current condition, Anne clutched her stomach in agony as her old wound moaned in a dull pain. Everyone, including Mary, rushed forward, trying to glean the condition of the Queen. When she exhaled slowly, it seemed as if she simultaneously deflated all of the tension her previous actions had brought in the room. As she motioned for her ladies to continue their business, she turned her attention to her once disgraced sister.

"Mary! What brings you here to the palace?" Anne asked warmly.

"Well, George sent me a letter while you were still at Hatfield, and you seemed so busy receiving people today that I thought you might need someone to talk to," Mary answered with relief. She was so glad that her younger sister was no longer angry at her (or under the selfish and narrow minded influence of her father, she couldn't tell which one it had been at the time), and that all of that nasty business seemed to be behind them.

"Well, I'm glad that we can finally talk as sisters again," admitted Anne. She blushed sheepishly, "and I am sorry about the way we parted last time. I know that I'm normally the brash one, but that was just so uncalled for Mary, you have to understand! And father had said—"

Mary put her hand up, silencing her sister. "I know you had reason to act like the way you did, but I had my reasons as well. Being known as the Great Prostitute among the nobles did not help my marriage stock, and being married to William Carey the first time was luck in itself. When my William proposed to me, I knew that it was my best chance. A slut with a daughter? That would have never let me have a 'proper' husband again!" laughed Mary. She had come to terms with her situation, and she figured that the rest of her family should as well.

"How is little Annie anyway? I haven't seen her since she was just a baby!" inquired Anne. She had sometimes wondered during her visits to Hatfield if Elizabeth was ever lonely without any other girls her age to play with. Sometimes she regretted not having someone like Annie to be a companion to Elizabeth, something she thought she might amend later. A request, though it should seem like an honor, with that much magnitude seemed too large to ask of her only sister so early in their reunion.

"She's growing up to be such a fine young girl!" beamed Mary proudly. "She's with William's sister now while I'm here with you."

"I'm glad," said Anne, and she sincerely meant it.

"But enough about me, Anne, what about you? After all, the only reason George thought to contact me at all was because of your injury." Mary asked.

"Well, I'm fine now; Dr. Linacre is a master at what he does. They say that William Brereton, one of the men who were accused and _confessed_ to being one of my lovers in my trial, pulled the trigger. He claims it was for God and His Holiness, something that the Church obviously denies. However, the Imperial Ambassador confided to Henry, unofficially because of the Emperor's allegiance with the Church, that they had a hand in the plot," revealed Anne in a low whisper, trying to avoid the prying ears of her ladies-in-waiting.

"And what about things with the King? I mean, he did almost have you executed on false charges!" pushed Mary.

"Henry is, well, being Henry. He admits to having been mistaken, but I think that he has shifted most of the blame to the people who misled him to ease his own conscience. I don't think he'll ever be happy with me until I give him a son, but he hasn't pushed me about it recently. Once I'm out of this bed though, I think I'll find that I'll be in it sooner than I thought," remarked Anne snidely. "Oh, speaking of Henry, he's supposed to come and have supper with me in my chambers tonight, so I best get ready now. Do you have proper accommodations? Do you need anything?"

"The Duke of Suffolk gave me a room near his apartments," Mary ignored the look her sister was giving her, "but I think I'd like to have some closer to your apartments since he has gone to fight the rebels up north."

"Madge!" called Anne, beckoning to their cousin. "Please arrange some rooms near mine for Mary,"

Madge bobbed a curtsy and led her other cousin out to her new rooms while Nan came to help Anne out of bed and change for supper.

* * *

Henry and Anne's supper that night was considerably richer and more decadent than the meals they had shared while at Hatfield. Because of this sudden change in food quality, neither of them could find room in their stomach's to eat another bite of their food, and spent most of their time at the table talking.

"How are you feeling?" asked Henry, being as overprotective of Anne as he normally was when she was pregnant.

"I am _fine_, Henry," insisted Anne. "I just wish that someone would just let me walk freely like I used to be able to. I haven't done so in such a long time," she bemoaned.

"Well I don't want to risk your health," stubbornly insisted Henry. Anne sighed. She knew that this basically cemented her prediction that they would be trying for an heir almost as soon as he felt she was physically up to it.

"So, how goes the uprising in the North?" asked Anne, hoping to take the attention away from herself. "My sister's husband is stationed up there,"

"Ah, yes, your sister Mary is at Court. Have you forgiven her for her disgraceful elopement now?" questioned Henry, ever the stickler for appearances and conduct, except when he deemed it unfit for himself.

"Yes, she is forgiven. You can tell all of the courtiers that they can stop avoiding her like the Plague now," said a slightly exasperated Anne.

"I'm sure they will figure it out without me announcing it. They always seem to figure out everything somehow," joked Henry. "Charles should have arrived just about now, and he assured me that he would send regular messengers with updates on the situation. I doubt anything major will happen, and if so, Charles has the authority to deal with it." Henry clenched his fists abruptly. "Whatever the cost, I will not let England fall into another civil war."

Anne nodded. She knew that Henry's greatest fear was undoing his father's work and somehow plunging England back into the War of the Roses. That was why he was so frantic to have a son. That, and because he needed reassure himself of his virility every so often, but that was beside the point.

Once again trying to change the topic of their increasingly awkward conversation, Anne asked, "So did you talk to either Charles or Mary about your idea?"

"Well, as I said earlier, Charles left this morning, so I didn't have a chance to speak with him. As for Mary, do you really think it wise to tell her about this now, when it is not yet set in stone?" replied Henry.

In truth, Anne thought that most of Henry's ideas were destined to be set in stone once he had his mind set on it, with their marriage a glaring symbol of it. Yet, she guessed that sometimes he could change his mind, as evidenced by her still being alive. She hoped that Mary would have the same luck as her, except with the near-death and humiliating experience of being locked away in the Tower.

"I think that she should know all of the dealings that concern the marriage she so greatly wants. If you are seriously considering this, which I hope you are not, then I do think you should tell her."

"Why are you so set against this idea, Anne?" asked Henry, slightly irritated.

"Why are you so set with going through with this idea, Henry?" shot back Anne.

"Why can't you ever be patient with my decisions?" growled Henry, getting worked up by their now commonplace arguments.

"Why can't you ever be patient and wait to make a decision? Honestly, she gave you her ultimatum a few days ago, and now you are almost dead set on her companion for life almost without a second thought!" scolded Anne.

"Fine, I will talk to her about it tomorrow. But unlike you, Madame, she will see the logic and graciousness of this arrangement. Good night, wife," said Henry tersely, and departed without another word.

Anne sighed. Henry and her relationship was never a smooth one, but she guessed that's why they never got tired of each other.

"I do not like it," bluntly replied Mary, after Henry told her of his plans to marry her off to Charles. The Duke of Suffolk, while handsome in his own right, was not the type that Mary wanted to share the rest of her life with. He was a womanizer, bad to his wives (that she knew of), and was almost the same age as her father! There was no way that she would accept such a marriage.

"But why, Mary?" asked Henry exasperatedly. Why did no one like his marriage ideas? Margaret had never forgiven him for marrying her to the late decrepit King of Portugal, Charles had gone against his will and married his sister, the Pope still did not approve of his marriage, and now his eldest daughter would not accept his newest proposal! Not to mention all of the times the royal betrothals of his daughters to the Emperor and Francis always fell through.

"Why would you have me marry someone your age?" Mary asked with disgust.

"It's not about age," said Henry. _It's about wealth, position, power, and status, something which you lack, _he thought.

"Well I say no," stubbornly refused Mary.

"It may not be up to you. You never said in our agreement that you had to approve of your husband, you just said that I had to get you one," pouted Henry.

Mary sighed. He had her there. She just hoped that the Duke of Suffolk would also see the wrongness of the proposed union dangling in front of them.

* * *

**A few days later in the outskirts of Lincolnshire**

Charles looked on grimly at the carnage surrounding him, the battle still raging on. The peace talks that he had held with the leaders of the rebellion had fallen through almost immediately, with the leaders too unwilling to accept any sort of a compromise. Charles knew that their demands were too high to be met, and the rebels weren't taking any answers but yes before they raised their arms. Both he and Henry had gravely miscalculated the number of commoners that the rebel group had amassed. In addition to the inhabitants of Lincolnshire, people from York, lords, and some of their retainers had also joined in the fray, providing some skilled swordsmanship to the mainly guerrilla group the commoners represented. The pas couple of days had been non-stop fighting, and Charles knew that his side was losing. Over half of his men were killed or wounded, and no matter how many rebels they killed it seemed as though two more took the fallen man's place.

Charles feared that he would have to pull back soon; there was no way his men could hold out much longer. He knew that Henry would be furious and embarrassed, but no one at Court could have known how large the rebel force was going to be, not even Charles. They were going to need reinforcements, but at what cost?

* * *

**A/N: **So yeah, the Pilgrimage of Grace is a lot different from the show, and the political environment of Court will change drastically next chapter. How will Henry react to this latest development? Thank you all of your patience! I feel that there may be two or three more chapters to this story, plus maybe an epilogue. Reviews are always welcome!


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